WAR  LETTERS 

OF 

EDMOND    GENET 


Edmond  Charles  Clinton  Genet. 
From  a  photograph  taken  in  Paris,  September  4,  1916. 


WAR  LETTERS 

OF 

EDMOND   GENET 


THE   FIRST   AMERICAN   AVIATOR   KILLED    FLYING   THE 
STARS  AND    STRIPES 


EDITED,   WITH   AN  INTRODUCTION,   BY 

GRACE  ELLERY  CHANNING 


PREFATORY  NOTE  BY 

JOHN  JAY  CHAPMAN 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1918 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  June,  1918 


TO 

THOSE  AMERICANS 
COMPANIONS   OF   EDMOND    GENET 

OF   THE  FOREIGN  LEGION  OB  THE   ESCADRILLE 
AND   TO   THE   THOUSANDS   MORE 

WHO  HEARING,  EVEN  BEFORE  AMERICA,  THE  CALL  ANSWERED  FOR  HER 
"PAYING  WITH  THEIR  BODIES  FOR  THEIR  SOULS'  DESIRE" 

THIS  BOOK 
IS    DEDICATED 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

BY  JOHN  JAY  CHAPMAN 

THE  Genets  are  descended  from  Edme  Charles 
Genet,  who  was  secretary  and  interpreter  to  the 
Comte  de  Provence  (subsequently  Louis  XVIII), 
and  who  died  in  1780.  Edme  Charles,  having 
lived  long  in  England,  became  in  France  an  author- 
ity on  English  affairs  and  was  a  publicist  of  some 
importance.  His  numerous  works  consist  of  his- 
torical essays,  memoirs,  and  letters  about  the 
British  constitution,  British  politics,  and  current 
events  in  England.  Two  of  his  children  became  dis- 
tinguished, the  first,  Edmond  C.,  was  the  famous, 
not  to  say  notorious,  Citizen  Genet,  whom  the 
Revolutionary  government  in  France  sent  as  am- 
bassador to  the  United  States  in  1792,  and  whose  in- 
discretions led  to  his  recall.  He  never  returned  to 
France,  but  settled  at  Albany,  and  subsequently 
married  the  daughter  of  Governor  Clinton. 

The  Citizen's  sister,  Henriette  (Mme.  Campan), 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  women  of  her  day. 
Inasmuch  as  her  father  was  an  intimate  of  the 
King's  brother,  she  was,  as  it  were,  born  at  court, 
and  being  an  infant  prodigy  she  received  her  edu- 
cation under  the  charge  of  distinguished  poets, 
musicians,  and  savants.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  she 


viii  PREFATORY  NOTE 

became  governess  to  the  children  of  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, whose  dearest  friend  she  remained  for  twenty 
years.  When  the  King  and  Queen  were  thrown  into 
jail  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  them, 
but  this  was  denied  her.  It  was  to  her  hands  that 
Louis  XVI  confided  the  most  secret  documents, 
family  trinkets,  and  locks  of  the  royal  hair  at  the 
time  of  his  confinement  in  the  prison  of  Feuillants, 
in  1792.  Among  these  mementos  was  a  brooch 
sent  by  Marie  Antoinette  to  Citizen  Genet,  and 
which  is  to-day  worn  by  the  mother  of  the  aviator. 
Madam  Campan  after  the  fall  of  the  monarchy  sup- 
ported herself  by  founding  a  school  for  young  girls, 
which  became  famous  immediately  and  was  after- 
ward turned  into  a  national  academy  by  Napoleon. 
Hortense  Beauharnais,  stepdaughter  of  Napoleon, 
was  one  of  Madame  Campan's  pupils.  On  the  fall 
of  the  First  Empire  the  Bourbons  persecuted  Mme. 
Campan  for  having  accepted  the  protection  of  Na- 
poleon and  treated  her  with  most  astounding  and 
cruel  ingratitude,  considering  the  devotion  she  had 
shown  to  their  family  in  former  years.  She  died  in 
disgrace  and  poverty  in  1822  at  the  age  of  seventy, 
and  left  memoirs  of  the  old  court  which  are  among 
the  best  that  exist. 

The  aviator,  Edmond  C.  Genet,  is  a  great-great- 
grandson  of  the  Citizen. 

During  the  summer  of  1915  I  met  young  Genet 
in  Paris.  He  was  at  that  time  a  companion  of  my 
boy  Victor  in  the  Foreign  Legion.  Genet  was  a 
shy,  neatly  made,  small,  blond  youth,  and  only  a 


PREFATORY  NOTE  ix 

wizard  could  have  divined  the  burning  ambition 
that  lay  concealed  beneath  his  quiet  demeanor. 
The  fact  was  that  the  Americans  in  the  Foreign 
Legion  represented  the  idealism  of  the  youth  of 
America.  They  were  a  flight  of  birds  from  all 
over  the  country.  Mere  romanticism  and  the  de- 
sire for  adventure  would  not  have  brought  them  to- 
gether; and  the  more  we  find  out  about  these  boys 
the  more  we  see  that  in  each  of  them  there  was  a 
soul's  history  that  led  up  to  this  especial  consumma- 
tion. They  are  national  characters — symbols  of 
America.  In  life  and  in  death  they  express  the  rela- 
tion of  America  to  the  war. 

I  see  them  hasting  toward  the  light 
Where  war's  dim  watchfires  glow; 

The  stars  that  burn  in  Europe's  night 
Conduct  them  to  the  foe. 

As  when  a  flower  feels  the  sun 

And  opens  to  the  sky, 
Knowing  their  dream  has  just  begun 

They  hasten  forth  to  die. 

All  that  philosophy  might  guess 

These  children  of  the  light 
In  one  bright  act  of  death  compress, 

Then  vanish  from  our  sight. 

Like  meteors  on  a  midnight  sky 
They  break — so  clear,  so  brief — 

Their  glory  lingers  on  the  eye 
And  leaves  no  room  for  grief. 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

And  when  to  joy  old  sorrows  turn, 
To  spring  war's  winter  long, 

Their  blood  in  every  heart  will  burn, 
Their  life  in  every  song. 


INTRODUCTION 

EDMOND  CHARLES  CLINTON  GENET  was  born  in 
Ossining,  New  York,  on  the  9th  of  November, 
1896.  He  was  the  traditional  youngest  son  of  the 
fairy-tale,  predestined  to$  achievement — so  much 
the  youngest  of  three  brothers  that  for  all  purposes 
of  play  and  occupation  he  grew  up  an  only  child, 
finding  his  pleasures  and  interests  for  himself. 
No  doubt  this  fact  contributed  to  his  determining 
trait,  independence  of  thought  and  action. 

He  was  educated  in  private  and  public  schools 
and  at  Mount  Pleasant  Academy,  for  which  insti- 
tution he  had  all  the  love  of  a  student  for  his  alma 
mater. 

Although  he  was  destined  to  end  his  days  in  an- 
other element,  the  earliest  attraction  of  the  boy's 
heart  seems  to  have  been  for  the  sea:  everything 
pertaining  to  it  fascinated  him.  When  the  other 
boys  had  military  suits,  Edmond's  must  be  a  naval 
uniform;  a  little  photograph  of  the  three  brothers 
shows  Edmond  as  a  cherub  thus  distinguished. 
But  at  the  mature  age  of  nine  he  definitely  dedi- 
cated himself,  and  in  the  manner  of  doing  so  as  def- 
initely proclaimed  what  was  to  be  the  key-note  of 
his  character  and  conduct  all  through  the  life, — 
the  ability  to  think  out  for  himself  a  course  of  ac- 
tion, act  upon  it,  and  present  his  reasons  (if  at  all) 

xi 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

afterward.  It  must  be  said  that  his  reasons  were 
usually  excellent  ones. 

At  nine,  then,  he  wrote  to  the  authorities  in 
Washington  for  an  outline  of  studies  necessary  for 
a  career  in  the  navy.  The  arrival  of  the  official 
envelope  with  the  desired  information  first  apprised 
his  family  that  their  "Third"  had  begun  making 
history  for  himself.  From  the  curriculum  laid 
down  in  that  letter  Ednjond  thereafter  firmly  de- 
clined to  depart,  to  the  considerable  inconvenience 
and  dismay  of  his  successive  instructors. 

At  the  age  of  ten  there  befell  one  of  those  small 
prophetic  miracles  with  which  the  story  of  genius 
or  heroism  is  always  more  or  less  filled.  He  in- 
vented an  aeroplane  which  was  exhibited  and  later 
formed  a  part  of  the  memorial  exhibition  of  the 
young  aviator. 

When  he  was  but  sixteen  the  father  died,  after 
a  long  illness,  during  which  the  two  elder  sons,  re- 
nouncing Princeton,  went  to  work  in  an  automobile 
industry.  But  they  reckoned  ill  who  left  the 
"Third"  out  of  anything  real  that  was  going  for- 
ward. Edmond,  as  usual,  took  counsel  of  himself, 
walked  a  long  way  to  the  model  "Chilmark  Dairy," 
and  applied  to  its  owner,  V.  Everit  Macy,  for  work 
before  and  after  school.  Thereafter  he  worked 
daily  from  six  to  eight,  going  home  to  change  his 
clothes  for  school,  and  changing  again  after  school 
to  work  again  from  six  to  eight,  Sundays  and  all. 
It  was  Mr.  Macy's  interest  in  the  conscientious 
boy  which  later  secured  the  necessary  congressional 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

influence  to  make  him  appointee  for  the  Annapolis 
examinations. 

While  the  outcome  of  these  was  still  in  doubt 
and  Edmond  in  corresponding  agony  of  spirit,  he 
presented  himself  at  the  Navy  Yard  for  the  re- 
quired physical  examination.  In  the  course  of  the 
visit  it  was  suggested  to  him  that  if  he  did  not  win 
the  appointment  he  might  still  enlist  in  the  navy 
with  a  prospect  of  advancement.  The  appoint- 
ment going  to  another,  this  was  what  he  ultimately 
did,  informing  the  family  of  the  accomplished  fact, 
according  to  custom. 

From  this  point  the  letters  carry  the  record 
through  the  brief  four  years  which  were  all  the  time 
granted  for  earth,  but  which  abundantly  sufficed 
for  immortality. 

Rarely  is  the  cycle  of  a  life  so  swiftly,  so  surely, 
and  so  gloriously  fulfilled — or  so  satisfyingly  fore- 
shadowed. The  egg  does  not  more  completely  con- 
tain the  chicken  than  every  trait  and  quality  of  the 
young  soldier-aviator  of  France  was  contained  and 
manifest  in  the  little  boy  at  Ossining.  The  notes 
struck  in  the  first  letters  of  the  series  by  the  sixteen- 
year-old  lad  make  up  the  full,  harmonious  chord  of 
the  last. 

Everything  about  him,  indeed,  seems  to  have  been 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  From  babyhood 
he  showed  the  feeling  for  music  which  pervaded  his 
life.  Standing  on  tiptoe  he  would  reach  out  "real 
tunes"  for  himself  with  effective  small  fingers,  or 
desert  his  playfellows  to  go  off  by  himself  and  paint 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

Indians,  among  other  things,  such  as  years  later  he 
was  to  depict  again  on  the  walls  of  the  Lafayette 
Escadrille  headquarters,  or  to  carry  with  him  as  the 
insignia  of  his  squadrilla,  into  the  air.  The  whole 
character  seems  to  have  been  there  ready-made 
from  the  first,  requiring  nothing  but  growth  and 
ripening,  processes  which  in  the  maturing  fields  of 
war  went  on  with  a  rapidity  so  precocious  that 
watching  it  in  these  letters  is  like  watching  the 
intensified  unfolding  of  a  flower  on  a  moving-pic- 
ture screen.  One  sees  him,  in  the  last  months, 
taking  possession  of  himself  as  of  the  air. 

A  prescience  of  fame  is  probably  very  common  to 
natures  destined  for  it.  The  thought  of  it  was 
never  far  from  Edmond.  Even  through  the  boyish 
despondency  of  the  first  letters  breathes  the  in- 
timation, "Even  if  I  have  failed  twice  and  am  the 
black  sheep  of  the  family,  perhaps  some  day  in  the 
distant  future  I  will  turn  out  to  be  a  white  one 
and  be  something  worth  while." 

Writing  from  France,  he  asks  to  have  an  early 
press-letter  kept  for  him.  "Some  day  when  I  get 
renowned  enough  for  my  letters  to  be  published, 
I  want  the  first  ones  to  look  back  to.  I've  made 
quite  a  start  toward  fame  already,  haven't  I?"  he 
jestingly  says.  And  he  attached  serious  value  to 
his  diary — "one  of  my  most  important  assets "- 
a  diary  of  which  he  is  able  to  amazingly  record  that 
in  five  years  he  has  not  once  failed  to  write  in  it. 
"If  I  am  not  making  history,  at  least  I  am  writing 
it."  He  was  doing  both. 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

From  the  trenches  he  wrote  reams,  in  a  fine, 
microscopic  hand  of  extreme  clearness — to  the 
"dear  little  Mother, "  to  the  "two  best  brothers  any 
fellow  ever  had,"  to  a  score  of  friends.  Some  of 
these  letters  falling  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Walter 
B.  Mahony,  Mrs.  Genet's  legal  adviser,  suggested 
to  him  that  a  book  should  be  made,  and  the  genius 
of  chance  led  simultaneously  to  his  office  an  old 
college  chum  and  friend,  Emery  Pottle,  himself 
back  from  a  year's  service  at  Pont-a-Mousson,  Ver- 
dun, and  Bar-le-Duc,  with  a  corps  which  had  won 
the  fourragere,  and  whose  members,  Lovell,  Willis, 
Marr,  and  others  later  became  Genet's  companions 
of  the  Escadrille.  Unaware  of  this  connection, 
Mr.  Pottle  promptly  volunteered  to  make  the  little 
book,  which  was  barely  under  way  when  he  re- 
turned, as  Lieutenant  Pottle,  to  the  front,  leaving 
the  uncompleted  task  to  its  next  heir — the  present 
editor,  who  had  all  unconsciously  been  qualifying 
for  it  by  a  visit  to  the  Escadrille  headquarters  at 
Ham.  Its  members  were  still  mourning  the  loss 
of  MacConnell  and  Genet  only  a  few  weeks  before. 
Edmond's  sketches,  the  piano — all  were  still  as  he 
wrote  of  them,  and  the  famous  "Whiskey,"  camou- 
flaged for  the  occasion  as  "William,"  was  gravely 
and  rather  insistently  pressed  on  our  attention. 
Within  a  week  of  that  visit  the  charming  French 
officer,  de  Laage,  was  killed  by  accident;  within  a 
month  Willis  was  a  prisoner  in  the  German  lines 
and  two  more  of  the  little  group  had  been  disabled 
— one,  as  I  think,  being  Norman  Hall. 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

Thus  by  a  coincidence  which  would  have  de- 
lighted Genet  himself,  I  was  to  come  straight  from 
his  own  headquarters  to  his  own  book,  and  from 
the  eager  inquiries  of  his  companions  for  another 
old  comrade,  to  receive  from  that  comrade's  hands 
the  unfinished  record  of  the  youngest  of  their 
number. 

One  does  not  refuse  gifts  so  clearly  marked 
"from  Destiny." 

Genet  seems  to  have  had  the  faculty  of  living 
two  lives  simultaneously,  with  a  cuttlefish  tenacity 
for  holding  on  to  all  things  at  once.  Tenacious  he 
was  in  everything — of  purposes,  of  friendships,  of 
the  family  bond  and  interests,  of  the  least  little  ob- 
servances: above  all  was  the  tenacity  of  tenderness 
which  kept  him  in  the  shell-swept  trenches  of 
Champagne  mindful  of  the  smallest  things  of  home. 
The  Front  could  not  obliterate  Ossining,  nor  the 
bursting  hell  about  him  make  him  forget  to  write 
his  notes  of  courtesy;  he  is  mortified  when,  in  the 
midst  of  battle  his  correspondence  gets  ahead  of 
him.  All  the  early  traits  abide  and  strengthen; 
the  little,  conscientious  care  for  money,  the  great 
care  for  his  friends,  and  especially  for  his  family. 
From  earning  a  citation  in  the  awful  slaughter  of 
Champagne  he  turns  to  write  bubbling  letters  of 
fun  to  a  girl  chum,  or  gentle  admonitions  to  his 
mother.  "Have  you  thought  to  write  to  so  and 
so?"  "Have  you  perhaps  run  in  to  make  a  little 

call  on  ?"  It  is  the  same  careful  courtesy 

which  later  illustrates  itself  in  the  little  notes  it  was 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

his  habit  to  leave  for  his  hostess  in  Paris,  when  on 
any  occasion  he  left  the  house  before  the  family 
was  up,  mornings,  to  say  where  he  had  gone  and 
when  he  would  return.  He  was  carefully  kind  as 
well,  finding  time  in  the  midst  of  warfare  to  be  pre- 
cise about  the  denominational  needs  of  a  comrade's 
stamp  collection.  There  are  no  unconsidered  trifles 
in  his  world:  the  number  of  things  he  kept  in  hand 
and  mind  fill  one  with  envy  for  the  vitality  of  youth. 

Between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  twenty  this  pre- 
destined adventurer  contrived  to  be  present  in 
three  wars :  he  was  at  Vera  Cruz  (where  he  was  first 
to  answer  the  call  for  volunteers  for  a  dangerous 
landing-party);  at  Hayti;  in  the  Foreign  Legion 
when  that  glorious  force  was  all  but  annihilated; 
and  finally  culminated  his  career  fitly  in  the  famous 
Lafayette  Escadrille.  His  sketch  of  the  battle  of 
Champagne  tells  what  an  eye  and  brain  he  brought 
to  all  this  and  justifies  high  hopes  of  that  Diary, 
still  held  in  France. 

"Srniler"  was  the  name  he  went  by  in  the  Es- 
cadrille, yet  the  boy  had  his  troubles:  there  was 
even  a  brief  tragedy  of  the  heart,  barely  hinted  in  the 
book,  and  more  than  a  tinge  of  melancholy  in  his 
temperament.  But  on  the  whole  it  is  impossible 
not  to  feel  he  had  a  very  good  time  of  it,  something 
sunny  in  his  own  nature  contributing.  One  may 
search  the  hundreds  of  letters  left,  for  a  rare  word 
of  complaint  of  hardships:  if  mentioned  at  all,  it 
is  as  part  of  the  picture.  True,  this  is  the  spirit  of 
armies,  but  significant  in  so  young  a  soldier. 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

The  sincerely  religious  strain  may  have  come  to 
him  equally  from  his  blended  Quaker  and  Catholic 
ancestry — or  from  a  devout  mother.  He  never 
misses  a  chance  of  church  and  communion.  On  his 
first  Sunday  in  Paris  he  writes  back  of  a  hymn  he 
has  just  heard,  "If  I  am  taken  in  battle  and  you 
hear  of  it,  will  you  have  a  little  service  and  in  it 
sing  Hymn  621?"  Later  he  adds  another.  Both 
were  sung  at  the  memorial  service  held  for  him  in 
Ossining — his  loved  home  town. 

Between  the  first  and  second  portion  of  these 
letters  there  exists  a  gap.  That  gap  was  filled  by 
the  most  momentous  act  of  his  life.  Edmond 
Genet  deliberately  deserted  the  United  States  navy, 
but  he  did  so  in  order  to  enter  a  greater  thing — 
the  war.  He  took  this  decision,  which  was  to  de- 
termine his  entire  future  life  and,  as  he  foresaw,  in 
all  probability  his  death,  with  his  accustomed  in- 
dependence, and  acted  with  his  accustomed  thor- 
oughness, consulting  nobody.  At  the  end  of  a 
cheerful  holiday — the  last  he  was  ever  to  spend 
with  them — he  walked  out  of  the  home,  after  the 
usual  loving  farewells,  ostensibly  to  join  his  ship, 
reappearing  some  days  later  with  the  quiet  an- 
nouncement that  he  had  taken  his  passports  for 
France  and  was  about  to  enter  the  French  army. 
Neither  prayers  nor  tears  could  move  him.  "I 
have  done  nothing  wrong — nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of,"  was  his  quiet  assertion,  "though  I  had  to  tell 
one  lie — about  my  age." 

The  boy,  not  yet  eighteen,  had  gone  boldly  to 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

the  French  consul,  giving  his  age  as  twenty-one 
and  his  errand — to  inquire  concerning  a  family 
estate.  The  demand  created  no  astonishment 
coming  from  one  of  his  French  name.  It  was 
necessary,  however,  he  was  told,  to  go  to  Washing- 
ton, and  to  Washington  he  went.  Something  un- 
explained and  romantic  hangs  about  this  entire 
incident — again  as  of  predestined  things.  His  ship 
was  delayed:  he  was  detained  almost  a  whole 
month  in  New  York,  subject  all  that  time  to  arrest 
as  a  deserter.  He  went  to  theatres,  took  no  par- 
ticular pains  to  conceal  himself.  No  inquiry  of  any 
kind  was  made  for  him  until  after  he  had  actually 
reached  France,  and  when  it  came  it  was  accom- 
panied by  an  offer  of  full  pardon  if  he  would  re- 
turn. He  had  no  idea  of  returning. 

But  though  he  had  heard  his  call  so  clearly  and 
answered  it,  apparently  so  lightly,  not  lightly, 
therefore,  did  the  decision  weigh  upon  him.  The 
years  of  his  service  in  France  were  haunted  by  one 
fixed  desire  which  became  little  short  of  an  obses- 
sion— to  obtain,  somehow,  the  removal,  from  an 
otherwise  blameless  record,  of  this  one  blot.  The 
higher  he  climbed  in  the  scale  of  honor,  the  keener 
became  his  determination,  pursued  with  all  that 
tenacity  of  which  he  was  so  capable.  His  letters 
to  his  mother,  to  his  brothers,  to  a  friendly  chap- 
lain are  filled  with  this  insistence.  It  is  a  distress 
to  him  when  his  new  friends  praise  him.  "What 
would  they  think  if  they  knew?"  A  kind  of  be- 
nign fatality,  however,  watches  over  him:  He  him- 


xx  INTRODUCTION 

self  says:  "All  the  good  things  come  out,  nothing 
of  the  bad."  Finally  he  makes  confession  to  one 
of  the  best  of  his  friends,  Major  Parker,  and  has 
a  lighter  heart.  "We  are  going  to  have  clean 
decks  some  day,"  he  writes  cheerily  to  his  mother. 
But  the  cloud  constantly  returned.  Risking  his 
life  daily,  already  cited  for  bravery,  about  to  be 
decorated,  and  with  less  and  less  illusion  as  to  his 
chances  of  surviving  the  war,  yet  his  main  concern 
is  for  that  unexpunged  blot.  How  sensitive  of 
honor  he  was  is  shown  in  many  a  little  outburst: 
"Every  time  an  article  comes  out,  like  Rockwell's, 
it  cuts  me  like  a  knife!"  Most  moving  of  all  is 
the  final  cry: 

"If  anything  should  happen  to  me  over  here,  it 
would  be  so  much  easier  to  meet  it  if  I  knew  I  was 
O.  K.  with  my  own  loved  country.  .  .  .  The  only 
thing  which  ever  impressed  me  about  the  Bur- 
ial Service  is  the  question — *0  Death,  where  is 
thy  sting?' — I  know  now  that  it  would  hold  its 
sting  for  me  if  I  met  it  with  that  blot  upon  my 
record." 

History  may  be  left  to  deal  with  that  still  un- 
expunged blot  and  decide  where  it  really  belongs. 
Meanwhile,  anticipating  that  verdict,  to  many  of 
us  it  will  seem  to  plead  aloud  and  eloquently — but 
not  for  the  boy: 

"Forgiven  be  the  State  he  loved 

The  one  brief  wrong,  the  single  blot; 
Forgotten  be  the  stain  removed, 
Her  righted  record  shows  it  not." 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

It  is  impossible  now  to  calculate  in  any  known 
terms  the  service  these  first  flaming  messengers  of 
freedom  rendered  to  America,  incomparably  more 
than  to  France.  Time  will  justly  appraise  this  too. 
Seeger,  Chapman,  Prince,  Rockwell,  "all  the 
Braves,"  as  Paul  Rockwell  called  them,  together 
with  those  unnamed,  unnumbered  thousands  who 
fought  with  Canada — will  be  the  real,  immortal 
heroes  of  this  war.  These  are  they  who  seeking 
nothing  but  their  country's  honor,  found,  in  the 
noble  phrase  of  one — Harry  Butters — "honorable 
advancement"  for  their  own  souls,  and  in  the 
darkest  hour  of  our  history  kept  burning  in  Europe 
a  lamp  of  faith  in  America  which  never  quite  went 
out. 

Among  them  all  there  was  no  braver  than  this 
youngest  brother — the  "Benjamin"  of  his  group, 
as  Captain  Thenault  called  him  in  his  touching 
funeral  address.  All  temptation  to  mourn  for  what 
he  might  have  achieved  falls  before  the  actual 
thing  he  did  achieve — at  twenty  years. 

At  sixteen,  he  had  written  of  the  burial  of  the 
Vera  Cruz  dead:  "Do  you  know,  one  almost  wishes 
he  could  be  honored  that  way,"  and  later,  of  Vic- 
tor Chapman's  death:  "There  was  a  death  no  man 
would  shrink  from  finding."  "To  have  the  flags  on 
one's  casket,"  he  thought,  "would  be  a  great  com- 
pensation" for  dying,  and  his  last  wishes  were 
that  the  flags  of  both  countries  might  float  above 
his  grave — "to  show  that  I  died  for  both." 

A  French  writer,  celebrating  the  presence  of 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

the  American  flag  in  France  last  July,  recounted 
this: 

"Some  months  ago  a  young  American  aviator, 
struck  by  a  German  ball,  fell  from  the  sky  upon  our 
front.  When  they  removed  his  garments,  in  order 
to  confide  him  to  the  earth,  it  was  found  that  he 
was  wearing  his  flag,  sown  with  stars,  wrapped 
about  his  body.  He  had  not  the  right  to  display 
it.  We  made  of  it  his  shroud. 

"To-day,  that  flag  floats  upon  the  wind  beside 


our  own." 


More  blessed  than  this  brave  companion,  for 
Genet  there  was  reserved  a  signal  distinction — a 
special  felicity — the  fulfilment  of  his  early  wish 
beyond  his  wildest  imaginings.  For  after  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  his  country  enter  the  war,  it  was 
his  singular  honor  to  be  the  first  American  to  give 
his  life  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

And  for  this  bright  immortality  of  fame  Edmond 
Genet  would  have  been  content  to  die  many  times. 

GRACE  ELLERY  CHANNING. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFATORY  NOTE vii 

INTRODUCTION  xi 


AMERICA 

IN  THE  NAVY — VERA  CRUZ  AND  HAYTI — 1914    ...  1 

FRANCE 

IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION — 1915-1916 37 

AVIATION— THE  ESCADRILLE  LAFAYETTE— 1916-1917   .  171 

CONCLUSION  319 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Edmond  Charles  Clinton  Genet Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Albert  Rivers  Genet,  Jr.;    Gilbert  Rodman  Fox  Genet; 

Edmond  Charles  Clinton  Genet 8 

Members  of  the  "Legion  fitrangere"  on  leave  in  Paris, 

July  7,  1915 84 

"Citizen"  Genet 102 

Major  Raoul  Lufbery,  American  Ace  of  the  Lafayette 

Escadrille 264 

"Whiskey-Man,"  the  cub  lion,  mascot  of  the  escadrille  .     316 

Gun-carriage  bearing  the  body  of  Genet,  surrounded  by 

guard  of  honor 322 

Captain  Thenault  delivering  the  funeral  discourse  at  the 

grave  of  Edmond  Genet 328 


AMERICA 

IN  THE  NAVY— VERA  CRUZ  AND  HAYTI 
1914 


To  His  MOTHER 

Chilmark  Farm,  Ossining-on-Hudson,  N.  Y. 
The  Dairy,  Feb.  20th,  '14. 

DEAR  MOTHER,  .  .  . 

As  for  me  and  the  late  exams,  dear  little  Mother, 
I  feel  certain  that  I  flunked  on  the  Arithmetic  and 
Geometry  and  almost  sure  that  I  failed  on  the 
Algebra  too.  I  feel  mighty  down  and  out.  I  don't 
feel  as  if  I  had  any  brains  worth  anything  at  all. 
Here  all  the  money,  time  and  worry  spent  since  last 
Spring  has  gone  for  nothing — failure.  I  wonder 
what  is  meant  for  me  in  this  world  anyway  ?  Now 
I've  just  got  to  go  back  to  the  Station,  face  the 
bunch,  tell  them  I've  been  a  rank  failure  and  be 
just  one  of  them — a  common  ordinary  seaman.  I 
hardly  care  what  becomes  of  me.  What's  the  use 
when  I  can't  seem  to  gain  anything  but  failure  ?  I 
don't  feel  that  I  have  any  more  fight  left  in  me. 
Now  I'm  going  out  into  the  World  and  hit  it  hard 
and  let  it  hit  me  just  as  hard  and  harder  in  return. 

Please  don't  worry  about  me,  Mother,  I  sort  of 
feel  as  if  I  were  the  black  sheep  of  the  family,  but 
perhaps  that  is  because  of  my  nature  and  possibly 
I'll  get  along  better  when  I  am  older.  .  .  . 

When  I  get  back  to  the  Station  I  am  going  to 
try  to  get  into  the  Signal  School  if  possible.  Per- 
haps I  will  be  able  to  do  something  there,  but  the 


4  WAR  LETTERS 

way  I  feel  now  I  really  don't  feel  as  if  I  was  capable 
of  accomplishing  anything  at  all.  .  .  . 

Cheer  up,  Mother  dear;  even  if  I  have  failed 
twice  and  am  a  black  sheep  perhaps  some  day  in  the 
distant  future  I  will  turn  out  to  be  a  white  one  and 
be  something  worth  while.  I  feel  about  certain 
that  Annapolis  will  never  see  me  though. 

Your  loving  and  affectionate  son, 

EDMOND. 


U.  S.  S.  Constellation, 

Newport,  R.  I. 
March  10th,  1914.    Evening. 

I  guess  the  game  is  up  about  Annapolis.  Mr. 
Pearce  showed  me  the  Army  and  Navy  Register 
this  morning  and  in  it  was  a  list  of  candidates  who 
passed  and  are  going  into  the  Academy.  I've 
failed  again  and  God  only  knows  what  that  means 
to  me.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  feel.  It  would  break 
me  down.  I  feel  miserable  enough  now  for  having 
to  write  and  tell  you  this  disheartening  news. 
You've  written  a  good  many  letters  to  me  trying  to 
encourage  me  to  look  on  the  brightest  side  and  I 
thank  you  with  all  my  heart,  dear  little  Mother, 
for  doing  it  but  I  don't  see  much  of  a  bright  side  to 
the  future  as  it  looms  up  before  me  like  a  big  black 
cloud.  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  had  brains  enough  to  get 
really  into  the  branch  of  the  Navy  that  I  am  here 
training  for.  I  can't  master  swimming,  I  have 
practically  lost  all  desire  to  try  to  learn  that  or 
of  the  many  other  things  required  to  be  known 


EDMOND  GENET  5 

before  a  recruit  is  sent  out.  I  feel  lost  and  un- 
steady. I  feel  stopped  up  mentally  and  weak 
physically.  I  want  to  get  away — I  hardly  know 
where  except  that  I  want  it  to  be  out  of  this  country 
and  where  I  can  be  "gone,"  if  not  forever,  until 
I  will  have  made  good  in  something  if  that  will  ever 
be  possible  for  one  of  my  temperament.  .  .  .  No 
notice  has  come  from  the  Academy  yet  but  don't 
think  that  means  anything  favorable.  I  expect  the 
report  to  come  in  a  very  few  days  rejected — God, 
how  the  word  grinds  into  me !  I  almost  believe  I'm 
going  crazy.  Only  a  part  of  me  is  here.  The  rest 
is  off  into  the  future — trying  to  fathom  it  and  to  see 
where  and  what  is  best  to  begin  on.  I've  determined 
to  remain  here  anyway  until  the  company  goes  out 
on  its  furlough  April  6th,  and  then,  if  I  succeed  in 
getting  by  with  it  by  being  passed  without  qualify- 
ing in  swimming  (for  I  am  sure  that  will  be  the  only 
way  I  shall  get  by  in  it  as  I  feel  sure  I  won't  be  able 
to  qualify)  and  I  pass  in  the  rest,  I  shall  reconsider 
staying  in  the  service  and  fighting  on  at  least  for  a 
while  longer,  but,  if  I  have  to  stay  behind  I  am  posi- 
tive I  shall  "jump  ship"  the  very  first  chance  I  get 
and  then  good-by  to  the  Navy  and  all  the  rest  I 
can't  keep  on  with  a  thing  I  can't  like — it  isn't  my 
nature.  I  love  you  too  much,  dear  Mother,  to 
want  to  go  against  your  wishes  so  please,  please 
don't  make  your  wishes  contrary  to  my  desires. 
...  I  feel  that  Annapolis  is  entirely  lost  to  me. 
I  have  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  getting  there.  My 
hopes  and  dreams  are  shattered  forever  and  I  may 


6  WAR  LETTERS 

as  well  acknowledge  that  now  as  later.  I  have  to 
laugh  at  myself  for  thinking  of  getting  into  An- 
napolis when  I  don't  even  seem  to  possess  brains 
enough  to  be  a  simple  petty  officer  in  my  own  com- 
pany here.  It  sounds  ridiculous  to  me  now.  .  .  . 

March  13th,  1914— Evening. 
MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

I  received  your  letter  of  the  12th  to-day  and  was 
mighty  glad  to  hear  from  you.  I  can  hardly  see 
why  you  never  have  thought  I  would  succeed  in 
getting  into  the  Academy  but  I  guess  it's  true.  To- 
day I  let  go  by  another  chance  to  get  into  the  signal 
school  for  two  reasons, — first,  because  Buck  told 
me  the  chances  of  advancement  are  slow  in  that 
line  and  second,  because  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  had  the 
brains  to  get  through  the  signal  school.  It  takes 
mighty  quick  eyesight  and  brain-work  to  be  a  sig- 
nal-boy, and  I  honestly  don't  feel  capable  of  either. 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  lost  almost  all  power  of  compre- 
hending things  quickly  and  easily  like  I  used  to  be 
able  to  do. 

Mr.  Pearce  talked  to  me  this  morning  and — well 
I  suppose  I  have  made  you  worry  a  good  deal  about 
me,  dear  Mother,  and  I  am  mighty,  mighty  sorry 
that  I  have;  but  please  try  not  to  worry  about  me. 
I'll  try  to  get  along  in  the  service  but  I  get  so  dis- 
couraged sometimes  that  I  have  a  hard  struggle  to 
keep  myself  in  restraint.  I'm  getting  so  I  don't 
know  what  I  am  doing  sometimes.  .  .  . 

I  will  never  get  over  the  shock  of  Val's  death, 


EDMOND  GENET  7 

Mother.  It  haunts  me  again  and  again.  I  feel  as 
if  he  took  a  big  piece  of  my  heart  away  with  him. 
I  never  thought  before  he  died  that  he  and  I  were 
so  much  to  each  other.  .  .  . 

Barracks  C, 

Newport,  R.  I. ' 

March  23rd,  1914. 

We  are  scheduled  to  go  out  on  the  31st,  a  week 
from  next  Tuesday  (to-morrow),  so  if  I  pass  the 
exams  and  get  off  I  shall  be  in  Norristown  by  noon 
of  the  1st  and  shall  stay  with  you  at  least  until  the 
following  Monday. 

I  feel  as  if  I  was  going  crazy.  I  have  gotten  so 
I  don't  give  a  hang  what  I  do  and  I  suppose  before 
I  know  it  I'll  get  into  some  trouble  and  spoil  the 
whole  hash.  I  feel  almost  worn  out  and  therefore 
mighty  miserable.  This  week  is  dragging  along 
slower  than  molasses  in  January. 

Mr.  Buck  said  this  morning  that  he  had  seen  my 
exam  papers  (the  Annapolis  ones)  and  that  Mr. 
Morrison  had  them  and  would  probably  call  me  up 
in  his  office  to-day,  but  thus  far  I  have  received  no 
word  from  him.  I  don't  see  why  they  were  sent 
to  the  Station  authorities  here  and  not  direct  to 
me  but  I'll  probably  find  out  to-morrow.  I  laugh 
at  the  fact  of  my  trying  to  enter  the  Naval  Acad- 
emy and  become  a  commissioned  officer  when  I 
am  too  insignificant  here  at  the  Station  to  even  be 
the  lowest  of  the  petty  officers.  I'm  like  a  ship 
that  is  going  around  in  a  circle  because  it  has  no 
compass, — lost.  .  .  . 


8  WAR  LETTERS 

Please  ask  Aunt  Frances  that  if  I  do  get  on  to 
see  you  both  I  would  be  mighty  well  pleased  if  she 
would  be  so  considerate  of  my  having  had  no  real 
enjoyable  feed  here  that  she  will  make  some  of  her 
very  excellent  cinnamon  buns  if  it  won't  be  too 
much  trouble  to  her.  .  .  . 

EDMOND. 

U.  S.  Naval  Training  Station, 

Newport,  R.  I. 
April  15th,  1914,  p.  M.    Barracks  B. 

Last  night  I  sent  a  hurried  postal  saying  that  it 
had  been  rumored  that  war  had  been  declared  with 
Mexico,  and  I  was  down  on  the  draft  which  was  to 
go  out  to-day.  Well  my  name  was  down  and  a 
lot  of  us  got  ready  last  night  but  to-day  a  bunch 
of  us  were  left  off  the  draft  which  leaves  on  the 
Tacoma  for  Mexican  waters  early  to-morrow,  and 
it  may  be  a  number  of  weeks  before  we  go  out  and 
we  may  get  sent  off  next  week. 

It  seemed  so  good  to  have  gotten  back  here  and 
the  same  day  to  hear  that  we  were  to  be  hurriedly 
sent  off  to  Mexico  that  it  is  quite  a  disappointment 
not  to  be  going  with  the  ones  who  seem  to  be  so 
lucky;  but  we  all  are  hoping  to  get  away  soon  and 
see  real  service  and  perhaps  a  touch  of  fighting 
"with  the  greasers." 

On  board  the  U.  S.  S.  Georgia. 
April  23rd,  1914.    Noon. 

We  sail  for  Mexico  at  4  this  P.  M.    No  stops  at 


Albert  Rivers  Genet,  Jr.;  Gilbert  Rodman  Fox  Genet; 
Edmond  Charles  Clinton  Genet. 


EDMOND  GENET  9 

all  anywhere  are  the  orders.  Will  probably  get 
there  this  time  next  week. 

We  are  the  2nd  vessel  of  the  3rd  division  of  the 
Atlantic  Fleet. 

Watch  the  papers  for  reports  of  us. 

Pray  for  us,  dear  little  Mother,  and  may  God 
keep  you  well  and  strong  while  I  am  away.  Rivers 
may  have  to  go  out  also.  I  send  him  a  postal  with 
this  mail.  Please  let  Rod.  know  as  I  have  no  time 
to  do  so. 

Good-by,  little  Mother,  and  please  don't  worry 
about  my  safety  too  much.  If  I  have  to  be  killed 
I  am  not  at  all  afraid  of  it.  I'm  in  to  do  my  duty 
even  if  it  does  cost  me  my  life. 

Lots  and  lots  of  love  to  you  and  Aunt  F.  and 
may  God  watch  over  us  all. 

Saturday  afternoon,  April  25th,  1914. 
On  board  the  U.  S.  S.  Georgia. 

Yesterday  the  landing-forces  were  organized  and 
my  name  was  among  those  of  the  6-inch-gun  crews 
who  are  to  remain  aboard  and  cover  those  on  shore, 
but  several — and  it  surprises  me  that  any  could — 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  stay  aboard  and  the  officer 
in  charge  of  the  landing-force  asked  if  there  were 
any  who  would  volunteer  to  go  in  their  places.  I 
was  the  first  to  step  forward  and  after  some  hard 
and  earnest  talking  and  assuring  that  I  could  use 
a  rifle  I  was  put  down  in  the  landing-force,  which 
makes  me  feel  mighty  pleased.  It  is  the  most  dan- 
gerous position,  but  I  would  rather  step  forward 


10  WAR  LETTERS 

and  volunteer,  as  I  did,  to  give  my  services  and  my 
life  if  needs  be,  to  go  into  the  most  danger  than  to 
stay  aboard  as  if  I  were  afraid  to  fight.  It  may 
be,  dear  little  Mother,  that  I  may  never  return 
alive  to  the  ship,  but  I  shall  die  fighting  for  the 
country  I  love  and  have  given  myself  to  serve  and 
I  honestly  say  that  I  am  going  in  to  fight  with  no 
fear  of  death.  Why  should  I?  It  would  do  me 
no  good  to  be  afraid  and  it  surely  will  do  me  a  lot 
of  harm. 

It  may  be  that  we  won't  land  but  from  all  reports 
I  think  we  shall.  We  have  to  carry  a  heavy  knap- 
sack and  gun,  food  and  clothing,  a  poncho  and  am- 
munition, so  you  see  we  shall  each  have  a  heavy 
load  to  fight  with. 

We  are  now  about  off  N.  Carolina  and  haven't 
stopped  anywhere.  We  haven't  even  been  in  sight 
of  land.  It  certainly  seems  good  to  be  on  a  man- 
of-war,  and  especially  to  be  really  bound  for  real 
war.  The  routine  is  not  very  hard  here  and  I 
think  I  shall  be  able  to  get  along  very  smoothly.  ... 

We'll  get  to  Vera  Cruz  about  Saturday  next  I 
should  judge  and  I'll  mail  another  letter  to  you 
then.  .  .  . 

We  were  given  a  great  send-off  at  Boston.  Big 
crowds  lined  the  docks  and  cheered  and  whistles 
blew  constantly.  We  were  the  last  ship  to  go  out 
and  so  we  got  the  best  send-off. 

The  Virginia  is  plodding  along  just  ahead  of  us. 


EDMOND  GENET  11 

U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 

Vera  Cruz,  Mexico,, 

May  6th,  1914. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

We  arrived  here  on  the  morning  of  the  1st  and 
have  been  anchored  off  the  City  ever  since  simply 
waiting.  The  artillery  section  of  the  landing-force 
has  been  ashore  twice  but  they  have  come  back 
both  times  the  day  they  landed  and  have  done  no 
fighting. 

To-day  over  three  hundred  regulation  khaki 
suits  were  brought  on  board  and  are  to  be  distrib- 
uted among  the  landing-force.  This  looks  as  if 
fighting  were  really  expected  and  possibly  we  may 
get  it  before  very  long.  Reports  state  that  the 
Mexicans  are  only  waiting  for  reinforcements  before 
they  attempt  to  retake  Vera  Cruz.  If  that  is  the 
case  we'll  have  all  the  fighting  we  can  do. 

Last  Sunday  afternoon  the  battleship  Montana 
left  here  for  N.  Y.  with  the  remains  of  14  sailors 
and  3  marines  who  were  killed  in  the  fighting  here. 
It  was  a  mighty  impressive  sight  to  see  her  steam 
slowly  out  between  the  war-ships  here  with  all  the 
ensigns  at  half-mast,  the  bands  playing  the  funeral 
march  and  all  the  crews  standing  along  the  decks 
of  their  ships,  facing  her,  with  bared  heads.  If 
anything  serious  occurs  here  how  many  of  us  will 
be  carried  back  the  same  way? 

This  is  pay-day  so  I  shall  have  to  stop  for  a  while 
to  work.  .  .  .  Last  week  I  was  incidentally  asked 
by  a  chief  yeoman  on  board  if  I  would  like  a  posi- 


12  WAR  LETTERS 

tion  in  the  Pay  Office.  I  told  him  I  would  and,  at 
his  direction,  went  up  to  the  Pay  Master  and  asked 
for  the  position.  I  was  detailed  last  Saturday. 
The  position  is  that  of  striker  for  yeoman.  The 
fellow  whose  place  I  am  filling  is  to  be  advanced  to 
3rd-class  yeoman  so  you  see  what  it  leads  up  to. 
It  can  further  lead  up  to  Ist-class  yeoman,  chief 
yeoman  and  perhaps  to  Pay  Master  whose  pay  is 
$264  per  month  with  expenses.  A  pretty  good 
chance,  isn't  it  ?  I  was  mighty  lucky  to  get  it.  As 
soon  as  the  fellow  I  spoke  of  is  rated  I  get  $5  extra 
added  to  my  $21  per.  The  work  is  pleasant  and  a 
great  deal  nicer  than  if  I  were  working  on  the  decks. 
That's  why  I  have  to  work  now  to  help  pay  off 
the  men.  .  .  . 

It  is  as  hot  as  blazes  down  here  though  the 
weather  has  been  just  fine.  We  all  work  in  our 
undershirts  in  the  office.  .  .  . 

May  30th,  1914. 

Am  using  the  pen.  It  is  O.  K.  and  I'm  mighty 
glad  to  have  one  again.  Also  thank  you  for  the 
magazines.  They  are  just  the  right  ones  and  I'll 
get  a  lot  of  pleasure  out  of  them  in  my  spare  time 
and  I'll  hand  them  around  as  well  so  they  will  give 
others  pleasure  also.  .  .  . 

I  guess  the  war  trouble  is  about  over  so  guess  no 
others  will  be  ordered  down  here.  Dr.  MacC. 
speaks  of  the  funeral  in  N.  Y.  of  those  sailors  & 
marines.  He  says,  "Dr.  Squires  &  myself  went 
down  Br'dway  and  stood  on  the  curb.  I  wouldn't 


EDMOND  GENET  13 

have  missed  paying  that  last  honor  for  anything. 
It  was  all  I  could  do  just  now."  He  also  says, 
"Edmond,  you  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  when 
the  bodies  passed,  and  every  hat  was  off  and  women, 
and  men  too,  bowed  their  heads."  It  certainly 
must  have  been  impressive.  Do  you  know,  Mother, 
one  almost  wishes  he  too  could  be  honored  that 
way? 

I  had  my  feet  on  real  Mexican  soil  for  the  first 
time  this  p.  M.  Went  ashore  to  see  a  baseball  game 
between  the  Georgia's  team  and  that  of  the  28th 
Inft.  I  hope  to  get  shore  liberty  this  coming  week 
so  I'll  have  a  good  chance  to  see  Vera  Cruz.  It 
surely  is  a  picturesque  city, — white  plaster  houses, 
an  old  white-walled  fort  in  front  and  the  high, 
snow-capped,  volcanic  mountains  behind  to  set  it 
off.  In  the  early  mornings  when  the  sun  is  just 
coming  up  it  presents  the  most  beautiful  piece  of 
scenery  I  have  ever  seen.  The  green  of  the  near-by 
hills  is  so  vivid,  the  water  so  blue  and  sparkling,  the 
town  so  white  and  old-looking  with  its  towers  and 
old  fort  and  the  high  gray  mountains  almost  fifty 
miles  in  the  background,  together  with  the  grim 
gray  battleships  anchored  in  the  foreground,  pre- 
sent a  picture  in  colors  and  scenery  that  would  give 
pleasure  to  an  artist  to  place  on  canvas.  I  never 
expected  it  to  be  such  a  beautiful  place.  .  .  . 

I  doubt  if  any  more  serious  trouble  will  ensue 
between  the  U.  S.  and  Huerta.  They  seem  to  be 
coming  to  terms  now.  To  me  it  is  all  folly — this 
peacemaking  with  a  miserable  cutthroat.  .  .  . 


14  WAR  LETTERS 

July  11,  1914. 

It  has  been  rather  misty  around  the  mountains 
of  late  so  I  haven't  had  a  glimpse  of  Orizaba  with 
its  snow-capped  peak  for  some  time.  Just  these 
days  it  is  full  moon  and  it  sure  is  beautiful  here  in 
the  evenings  in  the  moonlight.  Almost  every  night 
we  have  motion  pictures  to  look  at  and  they  help 
to  agreeably  and  enjoyably  pass  away  the  evenings 
before  tattoo.  They  show  some  pretty  good  films 
too. 

Second-class  mail  just  brought  in.  The  maga- 
zines are  here  from  you  and  many,  many  thanks  to 
you  and  Rivers  for  being  so  good  to  your  sailor- 
son. 

A  small  and  yet  what  might  have  been  a  big  in- 
cident occurred  on  the  American  line,  which  radi- 
ates about  three  miles  around  Vera  Cruz,  the  other 
day.  It  seems  that  at  a  certain  point  the  Mexican 
troops  are  stationed  just  a  short  distance  from  our 
line.  A  captain  of  a  troop  of  U.  S.  soldiers  unwisely 
led  (perhaps  it  was  unsuspectingly)  his  men  across 
the  line  and  was  stopped  by  a  Mexican  colonel  with 
a  squad  of  his  men  who  advanced  with  a  flag  of 
truce  when  he  saw  the  Americans  cross  the  line. 
The  colonel  demanded  to  know  why  the  Americans 
had  overstepped  the  limit  of  the  American  line.  In 
reply  the  captain  of  our  force  said  that  he  was 
making  maps  and  rather  curtly  asked  the  Mexican 
what  he  intended  to  do  about  it.  He  replied  that 
if  the  Americans  did  not  retreat  to  their  line  he 
would  order  his  force  to  attack  them.  This  would 


EDMOND  GENET  15 

very  likely  have  resulted  in  the  complete  annihila- 
tion of  our  force  as  they  were  outnumbered  by  the 
Mexicans  and  they  had  a  great  deal  better  posi- 
tion. As  it  was,  however,  the  captain  wisely  re- 
treated and  that  ended  the  incident  but  it  shows 
what  might  possibly  happen  at  any  time.  Things 
are  rather  unbalanced.  If  things  did  come  to  a 
climax  it  would  be  a  thousand  times  better  than 
this  suspense. 

I  must  close  now  and  get  down  below  to  do  some 
strenuous  scrubbing.  Scrubbing  dirty  clothes  on 
Sat.  afternoon  wouldn't  appeal  to  me  at  all  on  the 
outside  but  in  the  Navy — well  it  has  to  be  done  so 
one  gets  used  to  it  and  then  it  isn't  really  hard 
work  anyway.  I  know  one  thing,  though,  and  that 
is  that  when  I  get  a  wife  she  can  darn  my  clothes 
but  she'll  never  wash  them  if  I  can  prevent  it.  I 
wonder  when  I  will  get  married.  Not  until  my 
income  is  pretty  nigh  on  to  $200  or  $250  a  month 
anyway. 

July  25th,  1914. 

What  do  you  think  came  in  the  mail  this  morn- 
ing? Something  mighty  acceptable, — a  long  let- 
ter from .  She  wrote  it  in  gay  Paris  on  the  3rd 

and  4th  of  July.  She  says  that  when  they  started 
across  she  was  just  lingering  between  life  and 
death  and  the  only  hope  they  had  was  that  the  sea 
air  would  either  help  her  or  kill  her.  It  helped  her 
and  when  she  wrote  the  letter  she  was  very  much 
better  and  stronger  only  full  of  medicine.  Her  ac- 


16  WAR  LETTERS 

counts  of  some  people  she  has  seen  in  Paris  are 
great.  She's  having  one  good  time  I  guess.  .  .  . 

M a,  I've  been  a  bad  kid.  Last  Friday  (week)  I 
lost  my  miserable  temper  while  talking  to  one  of  the 
Chief  Master-at-Arms  and  in  consequence  I  spent 
all  of  last  Saturday  in  the  ship's  "pie-house" 
munching  angel-cake  and  white  wine  (bread  & 
water).  Some  real  sailor  your  noble  son  is  now. 
You  know  one  isn't  really  a  real  sailor  until  he  has 
"done  time"  in  the  sweat-house  so  I've  done  time 
and  am  a  real  sailor.  I  don't  care  to  do  any  more 
"time"  though,  thank  you,  if  I  can  help  it. 

I  suppose  you  know  the  latest  dope  about  the 
Mexican  situation.  Huerta  has  "beat  it"  and  now 
peace,  gentle,  noble  peace,  is  hanging  by  a  very  thin 
thread.  War,  bitter,  bitter  war  may  still  trouble 
the  hearts  and  pockets  of  our  glorious  countrymen. 
We'll  not  be  North  until  Oct.  or  Nov.  or  Dec.  or 
Jan.  or  Goodness  knows  when  anyway.  That's  the 
most  explicit  dope  I  can  deal  out  just  now.  "Where 
there's  life,  there's  hope"  but  there  is  very  little 
"life"  down  here  so  I  guess  there  is  very  little 
"hope"  either.  .  .  . 


U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 
Passage  Vera  Cruz,  Mexico,  to  Port  au  Prince, 

Hayti. 
August  7th,  1914. 

Unless  you  have  seen  in  the  papers  that  the 
Georgia  has  left  Vera  Cruz  for  Port  au  Prince,  Hayti, 
you  are  doubtless  surprised  to  know  that  fact  from 


EDMOND   GENET  17 

this  letter.  It  was  a  quick  leave-taking  of  Mexico, 
because  the  sailing  orders  were  not  received  until 
Friday  afternoon,  the  31st,  and  we  had  to  coal  all 
of  Saturday,  taking  on  1,200  tons,  and  a  lot  of  com- 
missary and  ship's  stores  besides  before  we  could 
leave,  which  was  about  9.30  p.  M.  Saturday,  the  1st. 
It  made  just  exactly  three  months  that  we  were  at 
Vera  Cruz. 

To-morrow,  probably  in  the  morning,  we  shall 
get  to  Port  au  Prince.  We  are  quite  near  the  Cu- 
ban coast  now.  This  morning  we  passed  Santiago. 
Until  now  I  did  not  realize  that  Cuba  was  so  moun- 
tainous. 

The  weather  has  been  great  all  the  way,  although 
a  trifle  rough.  Every  minute  or  so  a  wave  will 
break  over  our  bow.  I  managed  to  get  a  letter  off 
to  Rod.  last  Sat.  before  we  left  but,  as  I  was  very 
very  busy  all  Friday  in  taking  care  of  clothing  stores 
which  were  brought  on  board  for  us  then  and  coal- 
ing ship,  etc.,  all  Saturday  I  could  get  in  no  time  to 
drop  you  or  Rivers  any  word  of  the  sudden  change. 
This  will  leave  for  the  States  on  the  Connecticut, 
which  we  are  to  relieve,  to-morrow. 

There  is,  as  I  suppose  you  already  know  from 
the  papers,  some  trouble  going  on  in  Hayti,  and  I 
believe  part  of  the  crew  are  to  land  and  take  up 
camping  quarters  when  we  arrive.  Mr.  Coontz, 
our  captain,  was  naval  governor  of  Guam  when  we 
had  military  control  of  that  island,  so  I  presume 
that  is  the  principal  reason  why  the  Georgia  was 
ordered  to  go  there,  so  that  if  the  U.  S.  had  to 


18  WAR  LETTERS 

forcibly  interfere  with  the  present  situation  in 
Hayti,  Coontz  might  be  put  in  charge  on  account 
of  his  experience  as  governor  of  Guam. 

The  present  situation  in  Europe  certainly  looks 
pretty  serious,  doesn't  it?  With  England,  Russia, 
and  France  against  Germany,  Austria,  and  perhaps 
Italy,  there  surely  will  be  a  mighty  big  war  and  a 
big  change  in  the  geography  of  Europe  when  it 
finally  ends. 

Do  you  know  anything  about  ?  I  had  a 

postal  from  her  in  last  Saturday's  mail,  but  when 
she  wrote  that  the  war  was  unknown.  Now  I  guess 
American  tourists  are  making  hurried  tracks  for 
home,  so  I  wonder  if  she  and  her  aunt  have  returned 
also.  I  have  a  letter  I  shall  mail  to  her,  but  I  hard- 
ly know  where  to  send  it — France  or  the  States. 

I  understood,  when  we  left,  that  all  the  ships  at 
Vera  Cruz  except  the  Delaware  and  Kansas  were 
to  return  to  the  States  this  week.  I  wish  we  would 
be  ordered  to  go  to  Europe  soon.  I'd  like  a  mighty 
lot  to  get  over  there  while  the  excitement  lasts. 
Three  wars  in  one  cruise!  That  would  be  going 
some — Mexican,  Haytian,  and  International  Euro- 
pean War!  I  guess  the  last  named  is  the  only 
really  serious  one,  and  even  that  may  not  be  very 
serious,  although  it  doesn't  look  that  way  just  at 
present. 

U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 

Port  au  Prince,  Hayti. 

August  20th,  1914.     Evening. 

Mail  leaves  for  the  United  States  of  America  to- 


EDMOND  GENET  19 

morrow  on  the  collier  Ccesar,  and  I  am,  therefore, 
heroically  endeavoring  to  write  this  epistle  so  it 
may  leave  then.  We  have  been  coaling  ship  all 
day — started  at  5  this  morning,  and  I  feel  pretty 
tired. 

Have  been  ashore  twice  to  ball-games  which  the 
different  divisions  of  the  ship  have  been  having 
among  themselves.  Yesterday  was  the  second  of 
those  two  times  and  I  sure  did  enjoy  it  immensely. 

The  natives  are  a  mixture  of  French  and  negro 
blood  and  talk  a  dialect  most  of  which  is  of  French. 
They  are  a  treacherous  lot  and  are  easily  excited 
and  aroused.  The  majority  of  them  carry  knives, 
short  swords,  or  daggers  concealed  in  their  sleeves 
or  jackets.  The  first  time  I  was  ashore  I  bought  a 
broad-bladed  short  sword  in  a  neat  case.  It  makes 
a  good  trophy. 

The  scenery  here  is  quite  picturesque.  The  har- 
bor is  almost  like  a  basin  (here  is  an  outline  of  it). 
Facing  the  city  from  the  ship — on  the  right  are 
very  high  mountains,  and  on  the  left  is  another 
range — not  quite  as  high,  but  which  in  their  rock 
formation  remind  me  very  much  of  pictures  I  have 
seen  of  the  Bad  Lands  in  the  U.  S.  or  the  Colorado 
or  Arizona  ranges — especially  when  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  strike  them.  Their  colors  are  beautiful. 
The  city  is  on  a  gentle  slope  and  to  its  right  is  a 
grassy  plain  which  stretches  across  a  valley  to  the 
opposite  range.  The  large  island  at  the  entrance 
encloses  the  harbor  a  great  deal,  which  gives  it  the 
basin  idea  of  which  I  spoke  before.  I  am  enclosing 


20  WAR  LETTERS 

a  couple  of  postals — one  of  the  inside  of  the  big 
cathedral  which  is  the  most  prominent  edifice  here 
and  which  is  mighty  pretty  inside,  and  one  of  the 
English  church,  Saint  Anne.  I  haven't  seen  the 
latter.  Notice  the  high  range  behind  Saint  Anne. 
I  mention  that  fact  on  the  back  of  that  card.  The 
baseball  park  is  almost  at  the  base  of  the  range, 
and  one  has  to  be  on  the  park  grounds  and  look  up 
at  the  mountains  to  really  realize  their  height  and 
what  a  climb  it  would  be  to  attain  their  summit. 
The  sides  are  very  rugged — covered  largely  with 
small  hillocks  and  gullies.  I  think  it  is  a  volcanic 
formation  to  some  extent — probably  very  old.  It 
looks  as  if  lava  formation  was  there. 

It  rains  here  just  once  every  24  hours  and  that  is 
between  5  and  7  every  afternoon — usually  about 
sunset — a  short  shower  or  a  thunder-storm. 

We  arrived  here  early  on  the  morning  of  the  8th, 
relieving  the  Connecticut,  which  left  soon  after. 
The  scout  Sacramento  is  here  also.  There  is  some 
talk  that  we  may  go  soon  to  Porta  Plata,  which  is 
on  the  northern  coast  of  Santo  Domingo.  I  can't 
say  anything  definite  about  that  though.  I  have 
better  news  which  I  really  hope  and  pray  is  to  be 
so.  That  is  that  we  are  to  be  in  Philly.  for  two 
weeks  about  the  middle  of  Oct.  to  attend  some 
sort  of  a  fleet  review  there.  I  do  hope  so  because 
that  will  give  me  a  fine  chance  to  be  with  you, 
dear  Mother.  .  .  . 

The  Virginia  left  Guantanamo,  Cuba,  the  day 
before  yesterday  for  Vera  Cruz.  There  is  a  good 


EDMOND   GENET  21 

deal  of  questioning  whether  we  will  not  get  the 
same  destination  soon  also.  We  may  even  be  sent 
to  guard  the  Canal — there  has  been  some  indefinite 
talk  about  that.  The  most  hopeful  dope  is  that 
the  Georgia's  annual  repair  period  commences  the 
middle  of  October  and  we  all  hope  that  we  will 
land  in  the  States  for  then  as  usual.  No  definite 
news  about  future  manoeuvres  have  been  received 
at  all  yet. 

Next  Monday  is  Labor  Day  and  we  are  going  to 
have  some  races  and  I  guess  a  baseball  game. 
When  I  look  back  on  Labor  Day  of  last  year  when 
I  was  in  Easton  and  had  dear  old  Val  out  with  me 
it  seems  ages  ago  and  just  yesterday — both  at  once. 
It's  going  on  to  a  year  since  he  died  now,  Mother, 
and  I  feel  just  as  badly  over  it  now  as  I  did  the  day 
he  died — worse  too  because  I've  missed  him  so 
much  ever  since. 

Mother  dear,  how  would  you  like  me  to  go 
through  West  Point? 

September  14th,  1914. 

Your  letters  reached  me  on  Saturday.  .  .  . 

We  get  war-bulletins  practically  every  day 
straight  from  France,  so  in  that  way  we  are  pretty 
able  to  follow  the  different  moves  the  conflict  is 
taking.  I  feel  sure  that  the  Germans  will  never 
take  Paris.  I've  a  lot  of  faith  in  the  French  tactics 
and  in  the  French  aviation  corps,  which  certainly 
has  lots  of  power  and  opportunity  to  do  some 
mighty  effective  work  against  the  German  invaders. 


22  WAR  LETTERS 

The  Allies  are  holding  pretty  strong,  and  it  will 
certainly  surprise  me  if  the  Kaiser's  troops  are  suc- 
cessful very  much  longer. 

I  told in  my  letter  that  I  really  thought  it 

a  very  unfair  play  on  her  part: — I  went  off  to  war 
in  Mexico  and  she  for  a  pleasure-trip  to  Europe, 
and  after  all  I  found  no  fighting  at  all,  while  she 
landed  right  into  a  big  European  war  and  very 
likely  has  tasted  of  more  war  than  I  will  in  my 
whole  naval  career.  I'm  jealous !  .  .  . 

The  Virginia  only  came  as  far  as  Guantanamo, 
Cuba,  and  a  little  over  a  week  ago  she  was  ordered 
to  return  to  Vera  Cruz  on  account  of  the  trouble 
Carranza  has  been  making  against  the  Americans 
there  of  late. 

When  we  shall  be  back  I  cannot  say  definitely 
now.  Many  think  we  shall  have  target  practice  at 
Hampton  Roads  by  the  middle  of  October,  and 
then  go  up  to  Boston  for  repairs,  but  that  is  very 
uncertain.  .  .  . 

Yes,  dear  Mother,  enlisted  men  who  have  had 
at  least  one  year's  service  and  are  of  age  to  enter 
Annapolis  may  take  the  competitive  exams  held 
each  August,  and  the  15  highest  can  take  the  fol- 
lowing entrance  exams  and  if  successful  can  enter 
the  Academy.  I  would  have  tried  this  Aug.  but  I 
had  not  had  12  months'  service  so  could  not  do  so. 
I  am  studying  to  take  next  year's  exams,  but  I  am 
(and  Rivers  also)  endeavoring  to  somehow  get  an 
outside  appointment,  if  possible,  for  next  Spring's 
entrance  exams. 


EDMOND  GENET  23 

U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 

Southern  Drill  Grounds. 

October  17th,  1914. 

We  arrived  at  Hampton  Roads  last  Friday 
(week),  coaled  and  remained  there  until  Sunday 
when  we  left  for  the  outside  on  the  grounds  here. 
All  this  week  has  been  devoted  to  torpedo  firing 
and  yesterday  and  to-day  we  have  been  firing  the 
different  batteries.  To-night  we  are  to  have  3" 
night  target  practice.  I  have  to  record  the  ranges 
for  the  port  3"  guns.  While  the  other  batteries 
are  firing  (the  6",  8"  and  12")  I  am  away  down  in 
the  "plotting-room"  or  "substation"  where  the 
officers  plot  out  the  ranges,  etc.  We  don't  get 
very  much  of  the  sound  or  recoil  down  there.  A 
comparatively  light  concussion  is  felt  when  the 
12"  are  fired  but  nothing  of  any  account. 

Target  practice  will  be  over  to-morrow,  provid- 
ing the  weather  is  fair  enough  and  then  we  are  to 
fire  a  few  torpedoes.  After  that  is  over  we  go  into 
the  Roads  and  take  on  a  small  amount  of  experi- 
mental coal  (some  new  kind  which  the  government 
wants  us-  to  test)  and  then  proceed  to  Boston  at 
top  speed  to  test  the  new  coal.  We'll  make  be- 
tween 17  and  19  knots — a  pretty  good  speed  for 
this  ship. 

As  soon  as  we  get  to  Boston,  which  I  expect  will 
be  next  Wednesday  or  Thursday  (21st  or  22nd)  I 
am  down  for  a  five-day  furlough.  The  very  first 
train  I  can  get  will  carry  me  to  New  York  with  one 
glad  heart  stowed  away  under  my  ribs.  .  .  . 


24  WAR  LETTERS 

October  19th,  1914. 

Though  this  target  practice  has  been  almost  un- 
bearably slow  it  has  proved  a  big  success  for  the 
Georgia.  This  morning  when  we  finished  up  with 
the  main  battery,  the  8  and  12  inch  guns,  we  scored 
a  very  large  percentage  of  hits.  The  Star'd  Waist 
8"  Turret  scored  12  hits  out  of  12  shots.  Surely 
no  nation  can  beat  the  U.  S.  in  heavy  gun  firing. 
I'll  leave  the  interesting  things  I  can  tell  you 
about  the  firing  until  I  see  you  too. 

Please  bake  a  cake  for  me — one  of  the  old- 
home  kind  with  chocolate.  I  can  taste  it  now 
and,  believe  your  tarry  son,  my  mouth  just  waters 
for  it. 


Navy  Yard,  Charlestown,  Mass. 
November  2nd,  1914. 


Mr.  Pearce  came  over  to  see  me  Wednesday  and 
we  had  quite  a  talk  together.  He  says  that  another 
examination  will  be  held  for  enlisted  men  some 
time  early  in  1915  for  another  15  to  try  the  April 
entrance  exams,  and  those  passing  will  go  in  in 
June.  He  advises  me  to  try  for  that  but,  Mother 
dear,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  bone  up  by  then  enough 
to  try.  I've  gotten  so  disgusted  with  it  all  that  I 
don't  know  what  to  do. 

With  war  threatening  with  either  Turkey  or 
Japan  or  both  one  can't  tell  where  he  is  going  to  be 
or  what  will  be  done  next.  We  coal  to-morrow  and 
leave  between  the  6th  and  8th  for  Hampton  Rds. 


EDMOND  GENET  25 

It  looks  very  likely  to  me  that  we  shall  be  drawn 
into  this  world  conflict  sooner  or  later.  I've  still 
got  some  hopes  of  dying  for  my  country,  Mother. 

Write  often,  dear  Mother,  and  try  to  make  the 
best  of  present  conditions.  We  all  hope  for  a  bet- 
ter and  brighter  future.  I  wonder  how  long  one 
would  last  in  this  world  if  he  had  no  hope  ?  Not  a 
great  while. 


U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 

Hampton  Roads,  Va. 

November  14th,  1914. 

Afternoon  late. 

We  came  into  the  Roads  just  this  afternoon 
and,  I  believe,  will  remain  here  until  we  go  out 
to  the  Drill  Grounds  again  next  Wednesday  with 
the  entire  lot  of  ships  and  torpedo-destroyers 
which  are  collected  here  now  ready  for  the  com- 
ing fleet  manoeuvres.  There  is  quite  a  big  bunch 
of  the  vessels  of  the  Fleet  assembled  here  off  Old 
Point  Comfort  and  it  makes  quite  an  impressive 
sight. 

Just  as  soon  as  the  Fleet  target  practice  is  com- 
pleted we  go  straight  back  to  Boston,  and  it  is  ex- 
pected we'll  be  there  by  the  25th  or  thereabouts. 
The  first  furlough  party  is  expected  to  leave  about 
the  27th  and  there  are  to  be  three  parties  during 
the  two  and  a  half  months  repair  period — each  to 
have  twenty-six  days'  leave.  If  I  can  possibly  get 


26  WAR  LETTERS 

the  2nd  party  which  begins  about  Dec.  21st  and 
includes  Xmas  in  it  I  am  going  to  do  it. 


It's  just  one  year  ago  to-day  that  dear  Val.  died, 
Mother.  How  I  wish  he  was  still  alive  and  well ! 
I  wonder  often  if  I  will  ever  get  another  such 
chum  again — one  I  can  really  call  a  chum  such  as 
Val  was? 

"O  thou  child  of  many  prayers! 
Life  hath  quicksands — Life  hath  snares! 
Care  and  age  (and  death)  come  unawares!" 

How  true  that  little  epigram  seems  to  me  now, 
dear  Mother.  See  how  quickly  death  is  coming 
to  thousands  engaged  in  the  present  European 
war.  .  .  . 

U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 

Drill  Ground. 

Nov.  23rd,  1914. 

Your  letter  of  the  19th  reached  me  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday.  The  cruiser  Yankton  brings  mail 
out  to  the  fleet  practically  every  afternoon  and 
takes  the  outgoing  mail  back  with  her  to  the  Roads. 

Up  to  Saturday  last  week  was  very  rainy  and 
the  target  practice  was  delayed.  On  Saturday  the 
2nd  Division  fired  and  yesterday  we  were  all  pre- 
pared to  do  so  early  in  the  morning,  but  the  rays 
of  the  sun  proved  so  strong  that  they  created  a 
haze  or  mist  on  the  water  and  the  targets  could 
not  be  discerned  at  the  required  fifteen  or  more 


EDMOND  GENET  27 

thousand  yards  which  is  the  minimum  range  used 
in  this  kind  of  fleet  target  practice.  It  is  practically 
the  same  range  that  would  separate  two  fleets  in 
actual  engagements  in  modern  warfare.  Five  or 
eight  miles  would  seem  to  be  quite  a  long  range 
for  battle  but  it  sure  isn't  in  sea-fights  of  to-day. 
Yesterday  they  used  to  grapple  alongside  and  board 
the  enemy's  ship  with  small  arms.  To-day  they 
bombard  each  other  at  a  distance  of  from  four  to 
twelve  miles.  To-morrow  they  will  probably  be 
fighting  entirely  with  torpedo-boats  and  subma- 
rines. Such  is  the  evolution  of  naval  warfare. 

Posted  up  on  the  Crew's  bulletin-board  is  a  no- 
tice that  the  entire  Atlantic  Fleet  is  to  be  in  readi- 
ness by  the  last  of  February  or  March  first  to  as- 
semble in  the  Roads  and  take  the  Canal-Pacific 
trip  to  the  Exposition.  The  Georgia  is  not  to  be  a 
Pacific  ship.  We'll  take  the  trip,  see  the  Exposi- 
tion, but  will  return  about  September  and  be  put 
in  reserve,  as  a  reserve  ship  to  the  Atlantic  Fleet, 
in  the  Back  Channel  of  the  Philly.  Navy  Yard. 
That  is  the  very  latest  and  best  dope  I  can  give 
you,  Mother.  If  I  stay  in  through  next  year  it 
sounds  mighty  fine  to  me. 

I  have  started  in  to  study  again  for  the  exams 
for  the  Academy  next  Spring  and  while  we  are  in 
the  Yard  I  am  thinking  very  seriously  of  going  to 
night-school  three  times  a  week.  It  will  do  me 
no  harm  to  do  so  even  if,  after  all,  I  should  buy  out 
later  or  not  take  the  exams  for  some  other  reason. 
There  is  one  other  young  fellow  on  board,  an  elec- 


28  WAR  LETTERS 

trician,  who  is  thinking  of  trying  for  the  Academy, 
and  we  may  study  on  board  together.  If  possible 
we  are  going  to  try  to  get  one  of  the  officers  to 
help  us. 

U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 
Hampton  Roads,  Va. 
November  29th,  1914. 

I'm  looking  forward  to  being  down  at  the  Shat- 
tamuc  a  few  times  while  I  am  in  Ossining  so  that 
I  can  keep  up  the  beloved  acquaintanceship  with 
the  piano. 

I've  received  permission  from  the  Executive 
Officer  to  attend  night-school  Monday,  Tuesday 
and  Thursday  nights  of  each  week  while  the  ship 
is  in  Boston,  so  I  hope  to  make  some  progress  in 
Geometry  and  Algebra,  the  subjects  I  shall  take 
there.  The  school  will  close  on  December  four- 
teenth, I  understand,  so  I  won't  have  but  about  a 
week  after  arrival  at  Boston,  but  it  will  reopen 
after  the  holidays  about  January  fifth  and  when  I 
return  from  my  leave  I  can  start  in  again  and  keep 
on  until  we  leave  about  the  fifteenth  of  February. 

Although  I  had  hoped  very  much  to  be  able  to 
be  with  you  and  Aunt  Frances  on  Christmas  Day 
and  help  you  eat  your  Christmas  dinner,  I  am 
about  positive,  dear  Mother,  that  I  shall  have  to 
enjoy  that  day  as  best  I  can  aboard  ship  or  in 
Boston  and  wait  until  New  Year's  Day  to  be  with 
you.  If  possible  I  am  going  to  get  to  Boston  on 
Christmas  morning  and  go  to  Church  there  and 
take  Holy  Communion. 


EDMOND   GENET  29 

The  Georgia  has  proven  to  be  one  of  Uncle  Sam's 
best  and  most  efficient  ships  this  year.  We  were 
first  in  the  preliminary  target  practice,  only  the 
North  Dakota  excelled  us  in  the  number  of  hits 
scored.  Yesterday  the  Commander  read  off  to  us 
a  letter  of  commendation  from  Rear  Admiral 
Beatty,  our  Divisional  Commander,  praising  the 
Georgia  for  her  marked  efficiency  in  the  matter  of 
sending  and  receiving  signals  during  battle  manoeu- 
vres. The  Georgia  in  other  years  has  been  rather 
a  tail-end  ship  but  this  year  has  proved  her  mettle 
and  we  all  feel  mighty  proud  of  ourselves  and  our 
ship. 

What  did  you  do  on  Thanksgiving  Day  ?  Were 
you  invited  out  to  dinner?  We  are  to  have  our 
Thanksgiving  dinner  to-morrow  noon.  It  was  to 
be  served  to-day  but  the  Starboard  watch  is  away 
on  liberty  and  so  it  will  be  served  to-morrow,  so 
that  all  may  enjoy  it.  Thanksgiving,  Christmas, 
New  Years  and  the  Fourth  of  July  are  the  Navy 
feeding  days. 

With  a  great  deal  of  love. 

U.  S.  S.  Georgia, 

Navy  Yard,  Charlestown,  Mass. 

December  14th,  1914. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  10  o'clock  Communion  at 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  one  I  went  to  before,  and 
again  to  the  regular  11  o'clock  service.  The  ser- 
mon was  a  fine  one — relating  to  the  present  war 
and  the  relation  of  American  Christians  to  it. 


30  WAR  LETTERS 

The  choir  sang  one  of  the  most  beautiful  hymns 
during  the  offering  I  have  ever  heard.  The  choir  is 
entirely  male  and  one  man  with  a  wonderful  bari- 
tone voice  sang  and  the  choir  sang  each  alternate 
verse.  The  name  of  the  hymn  was  "What  of  the 
Night?" 


December  15th,  1914. 

This  morning  a  request  which  I  handed  into  the 
Executive's  office  for  a  four-day  extension  of  the 
six  days  due  me  to  commence  at  noon  on  the  29th 
was  O.K'ed.  by  him,  so  that  now  I  have  ten  days' 
leave  coming  which  extends  from  the  above-men- 
tioned date  to  noon  on  the  8th  of  Jan.  .  .  .  An- 
other little  plan  I  have  doped  out  is  as  follows: 
Wednesday  afternoons  are  open  on  all  U.  S.  men- 
of-war  for  visitors.  (Do  you  grasp  what  the  dope 
is  ?)  You  and  Aunt  F.  and  any  or  all  of  the  Sup- 
plees  who  can,  meet  me  in  Philly.  when  I  get  there 
about  noon  on  the  30th,  and  we  can  go  down  to 
the  Navy  Yard  and  I'll  take  you  over  one  of  my 
ships.  You  see  now  why  I  want  to  get  off  on  the 
29th  so  I  can  be  there  by  noon  of  the  30th  ?  .  .  . 

The  atmosphere  here  is  decidedly  chilly  but  I've 
gotten  so  hardened  and  such  a  tough  "tar"  that 
I'm  going  around  with  a  summer  undershirt,  a  light 
blue  jumper  and  wide-open  neck  and  bare  arms 
and  don't  feel  it  at  all.  In  fact  I  feel  mighty  good 
and  healthy.  I'd  much  rather  have  this  climate 
than  the  miserable  heat  of  Vera  Cruz  or  Hayti. 


EDMOND  GENET  31 

Athens  Hotel,  New  York. 
Thursday  afternoon, 
January  14th,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Arrived  all  right  at  noon,  and  have  just  come 
back  from  down-town  where  I  have  had  my  pass- 
port viseed  by  the  French  Consul  and  purchased  my 
transportation  to  Havre,  France,  via  S.  S.  Rocham- 
beau,  which  sails  Monday  at  3  p.  M. 

Try  not  to  feel  too  badly  over  my  going.  God 
is  going  to  take  care  of  me,  dear  patient  Mother. 
I  am  not  afraid  of  death  and  I  have  always  trusted 
in  God  to  guide  me  and  I  always  will.  I  know  I 
am  the  black  sheep  of  the  family — a  wanderer,  but 
somehow  I'll  get  through. 

I  never  expect  to  come  back — death  seems  nearer 
to  me  than  any  possible  chances  of  going  through 
the  horrible  ghastly  conflict  which  is  carousing  over 
Europe  without  meeting  death.  I  do  not  fear 
when  I  think  of  it,  Mother.  I  can  give  my  life  just 
as  freely  for  the  Tricolor  as  I  can  for  Old  Glory. 

Will  you  look  among  your  possessions  and  see  if 
you  have  a  small  cross  which  I  can  put  on  a  cord 
and  wear  around  my  neck?  I  don't  want  the  one 
you  always  wear.  It  is  too  expensive.  I  thought 
possibly  you  had  another  which  was  less  expensive. 
You  will  get  this  to-morrow,  I  hope,  and  if  you  send 
a  letter  and  the  cross,  if  you  have  one,  either  to- 
morrow or  Saturday  it  ought  to  reach  me  here 
Monday  morning  anyway.  I  shall  board  the  ves- 
sel about  1.30  Monday  afternoon. 


32  WAR  LETTERS 

God  bless  and  keep  you  well  and  safe,  dear 
Mother,  and  ask  Him  to  keep  safe  and  give 
strength  to 

Your  ever  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 

Monday  morning,  Jan.  18th,  1915. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

I  received  your  letter  last  Saturday  with  the 
cross  and  thank  you  ever  and  ever  so  much  for  it. 
It  is  just  what  I  wanted  and  a  very  good  size. 
Your  letter  of  the  16th  came  this  morning  with  the 
prayer.  It  is  a  mighty  good  one  and  I  will  keep  it 
always  with  me,  dear  Mother. 

If  you  looked  at  the  shipping  news  yesterday  you 
will  know  that  the  Rochambeau's  sailing  has  been 
postponed  from  to-day  until  Wednesday,  the  20th, 
at  3  P.  M.,  so  that  I  have  two  days  more  to  wait 
around.  It  seems  as  if  there  were  no  end  of  delays. 

I  will  do  what  I  can  to  arrange  so  you  will  know 
if  I  lose  my  life  or  anything  else  happens  to  me  in 
the  war,  dear  Mother.  I  don't  want  to  advertise 
myself  too  much  though. 

I  thank  God,  Mother,  that  I  do  not  have  to  be 
running  away  from  my  own  dear  family.  Most 
boys  have  to  go  through  that  experience.  It  makes 
it  so  much  easier  when  I  know  that  there  is  a  home 
with  you  always.  God  bless  you,  dear  Mother, 
and  keep  you  happy  and  give  you  many,  many 
years  more  in  which  to  be  happy  and  well.  God 
will  take  care  of  me.  I  will  always  trust  in  Him 


EDMOND   GENET  33 

to  give  me  strength  to  fight  my  battles  and  to  give 
me  success,  and  if  it  so  pleases  Him  to  take  me  I 
want  you  to  know  that  I  will  go  willingly  and  with 
a  glad  heart. 

I  will  write  another  letter  before  the  vessel  sails 
on  Wednesday. 

January  20th,  1915. 

Your  letter  was  just  handed  me  and  this  must 
be  my  last  to  you  for  some  time  at  least. 

I  have  written  to  a  few  of  the  old  friends,  dear 
Mother.  .  .  . 

I  had  noticed  before  the  words  for  the  18th. 
Surely  will  I  try  to  follow  them,  especially  the  lat- 
ter, "Duty  must  be  done." 

The  cross  is  just  the  right  size  and  I  am  glad 
you  did  not  get  a  larger  one.  I  have  the  little 
book  of  the  New  Testament  which  Mr.  Pearce 
gave  me  and  perhaps,  dear  Mother,  out  on  the  bat- 
tle-field I  may  be  able  to  say  a  prayer  for  some  fal- 
len comrade.  I  hope  God  will  give  me  strength  to 
help  those  who  are  fallen,  be  they  friends  or  enemies. 

God  will  take  care  of  me,  Mother.  I  trust  in 
Him  with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  May  He  keep 
you  well  and  safe  and  happy  and  guide  me  back 
to  you  some  day.  I  am  not  afraid  if  He  sees  fit 
to  take  me.  I  am  His  and  He  will  do  with  me  as 
He  sees  fit. 

Good-by,  my  own  dear  Mother,  and  God  bless 
and  keep  you  in  His  perfect  care. 

Always  your  loving        EDMOND. 


34  WAR  LETTERS 

Athens  Hotel,  New  York. 
Wednesday,  January  20th,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  JEANNETTE, 

Possibly  you  thought  that  I  was  not  very  much 
in  earnest  when  I  told  you  that  you  would  very 
likely  never  see  me  again, — that  I  was  not  going  to 
return  to  Boston.  It  is  true.  I  sail  this  afternoon 
on  the  S.  S.  Rochambeau  for  France  to  throw  away 
my  life,  if  need  be,  in  the  war.  I  intend  to  join  the 
French  forces  as  soon  as  possible  after  reaching 
Paris,  which  will  be  about  the  twenty-seventh  of 
this  month. 

There  appear  to  be  very,  very  few  possibilities  of 
my  escaping  through  the  conflict  alive.  It  looks 
to  be  a  long  one  and  sooner  or  later  I  expect  to 
have  to  give  up  my  life  on  the  battle-field.  I  care 
nothing  about  that.  Death  to  me  is  but  the  be- 
ginning of  another  life — better  and  sweeter.  I  do 
not  fear  it. 

If  I  ever  do  return  to  this  land  of  great  possibili- 
ties I  want  to  find  you  the  biggest  success  the 
stage- world  has  ever  had.  You  can  do  it,  and  in 
the  right  way  too.  The  best  of  luck  and  success 
to  you,  dear  Star. 

Good-by  to  you  all.  You  may  be  sure  that  I 
shall  never  forget  you  even  while  I  may  be  prod- 
ding Germans  with  my  bayonet  or  being  stuck 
myself. 

Your  devoted  friend, 

EDMOND. 


EDMOND  GENET  35 

Athens  Hotel, 

New  York. 

January  20th,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  BILL, 

This  is  farewell  perhaps  for  the  last  time.  I  sail 
for  France  this  afternoon  on  the  S.  S.  Rochambeau. 
I  am  going  to  take  my  chances  in  the  great  war 
with  the  French.  I  hardly  expect  to  live  through 
it  but  that  matters  little  to  me. 

Good-by  and  the  best  of  luck  to  you  all,  dear 
old  Pal.  I'm  a  queer  sort  I  know  but  I'm  not  so 
queer  that  I  shall  ever  forget  my  old  boyhood 
friends  and  comrades.  I  was  born  to  be  a  wan- 
derer. 

Success  to  you  all  and  farewell. 

Your  old  chum, 

MONK. 


FRANCE 

IN  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 
1915-1916 


A  Bord  de  Rochambeau. 
28th  January,  1915. 

MY   DARLING   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

We  are  not  yet  in  Havre  but  I  will  take  this 
time  to  tell  you  something  of  the  voyage  across 
and  finish  up  to-morrow  before  leaving  the  ship. 
We  are  due  off  Havre  to-night  but  will  not  dock 
until  early  to-morrow  morning.  It  is  hoped  it  will 
be  in  time  for  us  to  catch  an  express-train  which 
leaves  there  for  Paris  about  eight  o'clock. 

We  entered  the  Channel  to-day. 

We  did  not  pull  out  until  5.20  instead  of  3. 
Darkness  set  in  almost  as  soon  as  we  got  out  into 
the  North  River  and  I  had  a  fine  view  of  the  N.  Y. 
sky-line  lighted  up  and  the  statue  of  Liberty  as  we 
steamed  down  the  Bay. 

The  first  two  days  were  fine — weather  bright  and 
clear  and  the  sea  comparatively  calm.  Since  Sun- 
day, however,  the  weather  has  been  very  rough  and 
stormy  with  the  exception  of  yesterday,  when  the 
sea  was  the  only  thing  which  was  in  any  way  un- 
comfortable. Tuesday  and  Wednesday  the  waves 
were  from  18  to  25  feet  high  and  we  rolled  about 
like  a  cork.  I  have  not  been  absolutely  seasick 
but  have  felt  anything  but  good  and  consequently 
the  trip  has  not  been  as  pleasant  as  it  might  have 
otherwise  been. 


40  WAR  LETTERS 

The  crowd  on  board  is  a  very  sociable  one  and 
I  have  made  a  few  friends. 

Yesterday  I  had  my  money  changed  into  French, 
—5  francs  to  the  dollar.  One  franc  is  really  equal 
to  about  $.195  U.  S.  currency.  The  centimes  (100 
to  the  franc)  are  the  most  confusing  to  me,  but  I 
guess  I'll  get  accustomed  to  it. 

This  letter  I  will  mail  on  board  before  disembark- 
ing to-morrow  morning,  and  can  use  U.  S.  postage 
on  it,  as  it  goes  back  on  the  ship  of  this  line  which 
is  due  to  sail  for  N.  Y.  on  Saturday.  I  will  write 
another  letter  as  soon  as  I  can  after  reaching  Paris. 

We  passed  very  few  vessels  on  the  way  over. 
To-day  we  have  passed  a  few  in  the  Channel,  but 
thus  far  have  seen  no  war-ships.  I  hope  we  don't 
see  any  German  ones.  The  Channel  is  mined  a 
good  deal  and  I  believe  there  will  be  a  pilot  on 
board  before  we  get  near  the  mouth  of  the  Seine  to 
take  us  into  port. 

Since  Tuesday  we  have  encountered  quite  a  num- 
ber of  short  snow-flurries  and  the  snow  was  as  hard 
as  hail.  To-day  is  rather  a  rainy-looking  one.  At 
meals  I  have  sat  with  three  men.  One  is  an  amus- 
ing elderly  character  from  Maine — in  the,  shoe  and 
leather  business,  another  is  a  pleasant  middle-aged 
man  from  the  West  (I  don't  know  his  business  but 
believe  it  is  jewelry  he  is  interested  in)  and  the 
third  is  a  very  sociable  Briton — more  French  than 
Briton,  who  is  a  chemist  and  civil  engineer  and  is 
returning  to  France  to  join  the  army  like  a  great 
many  other  American-French.  He  lives  near  N.  Y. 


EDMOND  GENET  41 

He  has  been  the  interpreter  for  the  three  of  us  and 
is  very  interesting  with  his  stories  of  Paris  and 
descriptions  of  France.  He  is  very  well  educated 
and  speaks  7  different  languages.  The  four  of  us 
have  gotten  along  mighty  well  together. 

There  are  more  women  and  young  ladies  on  board 
than  I  expected  to  find.  I  have  played  the  piano 
for  them  at  odd  times,  but  the  instrument  is  a  poor 
one  and  hard  to  play  on  with  any  degree  of  feeling. 
Altogether  the  passengers  form  a  pleasant  lot. 

It  is  now  about  5.30  and  we  are  not  yet  in  sight 
of  land.  It  may  possibly  be  quite  late  to-night 
before  we  come  near  Havre. 

Please,  please  don't  worry  about  me,  dear  Mother. 
I  will  get  along  somehow  and  with  God's  help  will 
come  out  near  the  top  some  time.  I've  got  to  take 
things  as  they  come  to  me  now  and  work  out  the  best 
plan  I  can.  This  war  will  end  some  day  and  when 
it  does  there  will  be  lots  of  openings  and  opportuni- 
ties in  France.  The  early  bird  always  catches  the 
worm  you  know  and  I'm  over  here  to  be  the  early 
bird. 

"So  long  Thy  power  has  blest  me,  sure  it  still  will 
lead  me  on." 

I  have  to  smile  when  I  think  of  myself  going  to 
Europe  with  one  light  suitcase — on  my  nerve. 
Most  people  lug  along  a  couple  of  dozen  trunks  and 
a  Tot  of  other  things  and  then  only  stay  two  or  three 
months.  I  surely  am  going  "on  my  nerve."  I 
guess  I  have  plenty  of  that. 

I  rather  believe  all  the  folks  were  very  much 


42  WAR  LETTERS 

surprised  when  they  received  my  letters  of  fare- 
well. 

It  is  now  near  eleven  o'clock.  I  am  going  to  turn 
in  shortly  but  first  want  to  let  you  know  that  I 
expect  to  have  a  definite  place  to  go  to  at  first  in 
Paris.  The  three  gentlemen  whom  I  have  befpre 
spoken  of  (my  dinner  friends)  and  I  have  been  hav- 
ing a  sociable  chat  all  evening  in  the  smoking-room 
and  M.  Guerquin,  the  Frenchman  who  is  going  to 
join  the  troops  is  going  to  let  me  go  with  him  to  a 
small  hotel  which  he  is  in  the  habit  of  going  to  when 
in  Paris  and  where  it  is  cheap  but  comfortable.  He 
is  an  extremely  pleasant  man  and  I  feel  that  I  am 
in  luck  to  have  him  take  enough  interest  in  me  to 
look  after  me  and  help  get  fixed  in  Paris.  I  have 
not  yet  told  him  of  my  intentions  to  try  to  join  the 
troops  myself  but  intend  to  before  next  Monday. 
There  is  a  possible  chance  that  he  may  be  able  to 
help  me  that  way  also.  I  have  no  fear  that  I  will 
have  much  trouble  in  getting  along,  dear  Mother, 
and  will  let  you  know  as  often  as  possible  how  I  am 
and  what  I  am  doing.  I  will  write  more  in  the 
morning. 

Morning  1/29/15. 

It  is  about  8  and  I  am  all  packed  and  prepared 
to  disembark  when  we  get  in.  That  will  not  be 
until  about  10  o'clock.  Will  probably  catch  the 
11  o'clock  train  to  Paris.  I  got  up  early  this  morn- 
ing thinking  we  would  be  in  by  now  but  the  vessel 
has  been  delayed  somewhat.  .  .  . 


EDMOND   GENET  43 

Most  people  go  to  America  to  win  their  fortune. 
I  am  going  to  Europe  and  win  it  I  will  if  there  is 
such  a  feat  possible — God  helping  me. 

With  love  to  you  and  all. 

Cie  P.  L.  M.    Buffet  de  Paris. 

3rd  February,  1915. 

Evening— 8.30. 

MY   DARLING   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

This  afternoon  I  enlisted  in  the  "Legion  fitran- 
gere"  of  the  French  army  for  the  war.  I  am  on  my 
way  to  Lyons,  where  I  will  be  for  from  6  weeks  to 
perhaps  three  months  drilling  and  learning  French 
war  tactics,  etc.,  before  being  sent  to  the  front  to 
display  my  powers  and  nerve  before  the  Germans. 
I  wrote  Rivers  a  letter  about  noon  to-day  at  the 
hotel  where  I  have  been  staying,  the  Hotel  de 
Moscou,  10  Cite  Bergere. 

You  probably  know  all  about  the  cablegrams 
Rivers  has  been  sending  me  to  come  back  and  the 
two  I  sent  to  him.  I  am  pretty  much  in  the  dark 
about  exactly  why  he  has  been  sending  for  me.  I 
surely  wouldn't  have  come  over  here  just  to  give 
up  and  return  as  soon  as  I  arrived.  I've  displayed 
nerve  enough  to  quit  the  service  and  come  here  and 
push  my  way  into  the  French  service  and  I  surely 
believe  I  can  keep  on  and  get  through.  I  did  not 
find  it  at  all  difficult  to  join.  My  passport  was  the 
only  paper  I  showed  and  it  proved  to  be  the  only 
one  required.  I  needed  no  birth  certificate  or  con- 
sent of  parents  (being  twenty-one,  which  my  pass- 


44  WAR  LETTERS 

port  showed)  nor  did  I  have  to  show  any  certificate 
of  morality. 

The  Legion  Etrangere  is  a  part  of  the  French 
army  founded  by  Napoleon  for  all  foreigners  wish- 
ing to  serve  for  France.  There  are  Italians,  Amer- 
icans, English  (born  in  France)  and  many  other 
nationalities  in  it — all  under  one  regimental  flag 
but  all  for  the  "Tricolor."  We  are  French  soldiers 
but  not  French  citizens. 

This  letter  will  very  likely  go  across  on  the 
Rochambeau  which  is  due  to  sail  from  Havre  on 
Saturday.  I  hope  by  next  Tuesday  you  will  receive 
my  letter  written  before  I  arrived  last  Friday. 
The  Frenchman  of  whom  I  speak  in  that  letter 
whom  I  met  on  board  the  vessel  proved  a  mighty 
good  and  a  mighty  helpful  friend  to  me.  He  guided 
me  from  Havre  to  Paris  and  took  me  to  the  Hotel 
de  Moscou  where  he  always  stays  when  in  Paris 
and  showed  me  different  parts  of  Paris  and  how 
to  get  around  and  also  gave  me  most  of  the  informa- 
tion I  needed  to  know  exactly  what  to  do  to  enlist. 
Ralph  G.  Guerquin  is  his  name  and  he  lives  on 
Long  Island  about  22  miles  from  N.  Y.  He  is  a 
mechanical  engineer  and  chemist  and  a  very  well- 
educated  gentleman.  His  English  is  slightly  broken 
but  very  good. 

I  also  have  quite  a  good  friend  in  Norman  Prince, 
one  of  the  first  Americans  to  try  aviation.  He  is  a 
rich  young  fellow — about  25  I  should  judge,  and 
very  quick  and  sensible.  He  came  over  on  the 
Rochambeau  and  is  entering  the  French  aviation 


EDMOND  GENET  45 

corps.  He  will  have  some  exciting  experiences  I 
feel  sure. 

I  also  made  friends  with  a  very  distinguished 
American — Mr.  Henry  J.  Furber,  Jr.,  a  lawyer  of 
Chicago  and  Republican  candidate  of  that  city  for 
mayor.  He  is  a  wonderfully  fine  and  well-educated 
man — delightful  to  talk  to  and  a  fine  friend  to  have. 
I  consider  I  have  been  mighty  lucky  in  my  friends, 
don't  you,  dear  Mother  ? 

Please  don't  be  angry  with  me,  dear  Mother,  for 
not  returning.  I  will  get  along  and  God  is  surely 
with  me.  I  feel  it.  I'm  in  this  game  to  win  the 
very  best  there  is  in  it  and  some  day  I'll  be  back 
and  surprise  you  all. 

Sunday  afternoon  I  found  an  American  Church, 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  and  went  to  the 
5  o'clock  service.  It  was  simple  but  I  enjoyed  it 
very  very  much.  Mother,  if  I  am  taken  in  battle 
and  you  hear  of  it,  which  you  will,  will  you  have  a 
little  service  or  something  like  that  and  in  it  sing 
hymn  621  ?  The  choir  sang  it  at  the  Church  Sunday 
and  I  think  it  is  beautiful  and  so  fitting  for  those  in 
this  war.  I  suppose  the  hymns  all  have  the  same 
numbers  in  the  Episcopal  hymnal.  621  is  the  hymn. 

My  train  leaves  for  Lyons  at  10  o'clock.  It  is 
about  9.15  now.  I  am  alone  with  my  papers. 
My  transportation  of  course  is  free.  Soldiers  travel 
free  in  the  country  when  they  are  on  duty.  I  am 
due  at  Lyons  at  7.38  to-morrow  morning  but  it 
will  probably  be  later  when  I  get  there.  Most  all 
trains  run  late  these  times. 


46  WAR  LETTERS 

I  have  seen  quite  a  bit  of  Paris  in  the  short  time 
I  have  been  here  and,  'though  it  is  pretty  quiet  now 
during  the  war  I  have  enjoyed  myself  walking 
around  and  seeing  all  I  could.  I  even  visited  Notre 
Dame. 

As  soon  as  I  can  I  will  write  from  Lyons  and  let 
you  know  an  address  so  you  can  write  to  me.  It 
will  cheer  me  up  wonderfully  to  hear  from  you  and 
Rivers  and  Rod  and  any  others  who  will  write. 


February  7th,  1915. 

Address: — ler,  fitrangere,  5e  Compagnie, 
Dep6t  des  2e  et  3e  regiments  de  marche, 

Lyons,  France. 
Correspondance  Militaire. 

This  is  the  first  chance  I  have  had  to  write  since 
I  wrote  you  Wednesday  morning,  the  3rd,  in  the 
station  at  Paris  before  taking  the  train  for  here. 
I  arrived  here  about  8  the  morning  of  the  4th,  and 
am  in  a  barracks — really  a  school  now  used  by  the 
troops  for  quarters.  I  hope  to  be  sent  out  to  a 
camp  of  the  regiment  in  a  week  or  so  which  is  near 
here.  This  is  only  temporary — until  I  learn  a  little 
about  drilling,  etc. 

Yesterday  I  was  fitted  out  in  my  uniform — 
tight  dark-blue  jacket,  bright-red  trousers  and  cap 
and  light-blue  overcoat.  When  we  go  out  to  the 
front  our  red  trousers  will  be  replaced  by  blue  ones. 
The  red  prove  to  be  too  good  targets  for  Ger- 
man rifles.  I  feel  rather  tight  and  strange  in  this 
garb  after  wearing  the  loose  sailor  uniforms  but 


EDMOND   GENET  47 

guess  I  will  soon  become  used  to  it.  To-morrow  we 
are  to  go  out  to  drill  for  the  first  time.  There  are 
recruits  arriving  all  the  time  from  Paris.  To-day 
a  pleasant  young  American  arrived.  He  is  a  doc- 
tor by  profession  and  comes  from  Buffalo.  He  has 
been  with  the  Red  Cross  since  October  but  gave  that 
up  to  join  the  troops  to  fight.  Neither  of  us  are 
very  competent  with  our  French  and  we're  mighty 
glad  to  have  each  other's  company.  There  are 
quite  a  number  who  speak  English  here  though  and 
I  am  getting  along  fairly  well.  I  find  it  hard  to 
grasp  French — it  is  spoken  so  fast  by  those  who 
know  and  speak  it,  I  hope  I'll  get  on  to  it  before  long. 
Most  people  think  the  war  will  be  brought  to  an 
end  by  next  summer  and  by  then  I  hope  to  be  thor- 
oughly competent  in  speaking  French  and,  providing 
I  am  well  and  alive,  will  look  up  some  position  either 
in  France,  England,  or  probably  the  good  old 
United  States  if  I  think  it  will  be  safe  to  return 
there.  I  am  not  sure  about  that,  dear  Mother,  but 
all  that  will  come  later. 

I  hope  it  will  not  be  more  than  a  month  or  six 
weeks  before  I  will  be  marching  out  to  the  front 
and  join  in  the  real  fighting.  I  did  not  come  over 
here  to  lie  around  a  barracks  or  a  recruit  camp 
until  the  war  ends. 

I  am  going  to  try  to  write  to  Rivers  before  the 
week  is  very  far  advanced  and  to  Rod,  also,  but 
send  them  my  address  anyway  in  case  you  get  this 
before  they  hear  from  me  so  they  can  both  write 
me  long  letters  as  well  as  yourself.  I  don't  expect 


48  WAR  LETTERS 

to  get  much  time  to  write  and  my  letters  will  very 
likely  be  few  and  short  but  the  love  is  there  just 
the  same,  dear  Mother,  and  I  am  thinking  of  you 
all  always.  God  bless  you  all.  I  know  I  am  a 
mighty  wayward  son  but  I  can't  help  it,  Mother 
dear.  My  heart  is  mighty  big  and  my  love  strong 
and  full.  Some  day  I'll  be  back  to  prove  it  to  you 
all.  Tell  Rivers  to  explain  everything  about  the 
Georgia  affair  to  me.  I  am  pretty  much  in  the  dark 
about  it  and  want  to  know  what  it  was  all  about. 


Camp  Valbonne,  20th  February,  1915. 
Premier.     Depot  des  2eme  et  3eme  regiments 

de  marche,  Lyons,  France. 
Correspondance  Militaire. 

Just  a  month  ago  to-day  I  left  little  old  New 
York  on  the  Rochambeau.  I  am  now  at  Camp 
Valbonne,  the  training-camp  of  the  Legion  Etran- 
gere,  just  about  25  miles  from  Lyons.  It  is  at  one 
side  of  a  large  flat  plain  and  a  fine  place  for  such 
a  camp.  This  time  of  the  year,  though,  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  rain  and  the  ground  therefore  is  damp 
&  muddy.  To-day  it  is  pouring  outside.  We  live 
in  long  wooden  houses  divided  into  sections  of  23 
men  each  and  the  quarters  are  fairly  comfortable. 
We  sleep  on  straw  mattresses  with  two  good  large 
and  warm  blankets  to  keep  off  the  cold.  I  find 
sleeping  fairly  easy  and  comfortable — far  better 
than  it  will  be  when  I  get  out  to  the  front  and  in 
the  trenches  or  anywhere  on  the  bare  ground.  We 
drill  a  good  deal  and  march  and  have  target  prac- 


EDMOND  GENET  49 

tice  with  the  rifles  and  do  everything  connected 
with  fighting,  even  to  trench-digging  once  a  week. 
Last  Saturday  in  Lyons  I  had  my  first  inoculation 
for  typhoid  prevention  and  there  is  another  this 
afternoon  and  for  two  successive  Saturdays  also. 
I  am  feeling  well  except  for  a  slight  cold.  That 
does  not  worry  me. 

Last  Wednesday  a  detachment  of  us  left  Lyons 
and  came  here  and  I  believe  we  shall  be  here  until 
the  last  of  March  or  the  early  part  of  April  from 
present  reports.  It  will  be  a  good  time  to  go  out 
to  the  front  because  now  is  the  rainy  season  and 
by  the  time  Spring  starts  the  war  will  pick  up  in 
earnest  and  the  real  fighting  will  commence.  There 
are  nearly  or  about  3,000  men  here  preparing  to  go 
out. 

You  know  of  the  young  American  doctor  I  spoke 
of  in  my  last  letter  whom  I  made  friends  with  in 
Lyons  and  who  is  in  this  regiment  ?  He  comes  here 
next  Wednesday.  We  have  become  mighty  good 
comrades  and  are  hoping  to  be  able  to  keep  to- 
gether through  the  war.  While  I  was  in  Lyons  we 
went  about  a  good  deal  together.  Last  Sunday  we 
took  a  long  walk  about  the  outskirts  of  Lyons  and 
he  treated  me  to  a  fine  dinner  in  one  of  the  best 
hotels  there  in  the  evening.  The  following  day  his 
wife  came  on  from  Paris  where  she  was  with  him 
while  he  was  there,  and  Tuesday  evening  he  sent 
me  down  to  the  hotel  to  meet  and  have  dinner  with 
her.  He  was  unable  to  take  me  on  account  of 
guard  duty.  He  is  32  and  looks  to  be  24,  and  his 


50  WAR  LETTERS 

wife  is  extremely  pleasant  and  ladylike,  and  I  had 
a  very  pleasant  visit  with  her.  She  was  doing 
nurse  work  in  the  military  hospitals  around  Paris 
while  Dave  was  out  in  one  of  the  hospitals  near 
the  front  doing  surgical  work.  He  surely  is  a  fine 
fellow.  He  has  done  a  great  deal  of  hunting  and 
camping  up  through  Canada  and  is  a  thorough 
out-of-doors  man.  We  are  both  mighty  glad  we 
came  together  and  I  only  hope  we  can  keep  to- 
gether. 

I  am  sending  all  my  letters  now  without  stamps 
because  in  France  all  military  men  can  do  so  with 
all  their  mail  and  I  am  trusting  that  the  French 
military  stamps  will  carry  any  letter  through  the 
U.  S.  mails.  They  go  to  England  without  stamps 
and,  although  the  U.  S.  is  not  one  of  the  Allies  I 
should  think  that  a  French  military  stamp  would 
be  accepted  there  anyway. 

I  am  finding  it  very  difficult  to  talk  and  under- 
stand French,  but  am  in  hopes  that  I  will  be  able 
to  get  on  to  it  before  many  weeks.  Unless  I  know 
French  I  cannot,  of  course,  get  any  rank  in  the 
regiment,  so  it's  up  to  me  to  learn  the  lingo. 

There  are  a  few  Americans  here  and  quite  a 
number  of  others  who  speak  English  a  little.  The 
officers  are  pretty  good — those  that  are  commis- 
sioned, but  the  petty  ones  are  a  poor  lot.  Dave 
Wheeler  and  I  thought  over  about  changing  to  the 
English  army  (it  could  be  done)  but,  although  one 
is  better  treated  and  better  paid  and  we  wouldn't 
have  the  language  to  contend  with,  we  would  most 


EDMOND  GENET  51 

likely  have  to  go  to  England  to  learn  drilling  and 
once  we  got  there  it  might  be  four  or  six  months 
before  we  were  sent  back  to  France  and  to  the 
front.  There  we  would  be  put  in  one  of  the  poor- 
est regiments,  while  now  we  are  in  one  of  France's 
best  and  have  a  better  chance  to  learn  French  and 
that  is  really  what  I  am  after.  Here,  too,  we  have 
the  opportunity  to  get  to  the  front  within  six  weeks 
or  so.  We  decided  it  was  best  to  stick  it  out  in 
this  army  even  if  we  weren't  very  adept  with  our 
French.  He  can  spit  it  out  better  than  I  can  but 
he  has  a  hard  time  with  it  too. 

The  food  is  pretty  good  and  there  is  enough  of 
it  except  meat.  I  have  always  been  used  to  a 
good  deal  of  meat  and  the  two  small  pieces  each 
day  seem  hardly  sufficient.  After  I  got  used  to 
the  bread  issued  I  have  gotten  to  rather  like  it. 
One  can  scarcely  expect  very  excellent  food  in  such 
an  army  in  war  times. 

God  bless  you,  Mother  dear.  No  boy  could 
ever  have  a  better  mother  than  I  have  and  no  son 
loves  his  mother  more  than  I  do  mine. 

Camp  Valbonne, 
February  28,  1915. 

Some  time  this  week  I  am  earnestly  hoping  that 
quite  a  bit  of  mail  will  arrive  from  you  all.  I  am 
becoming  mighty  anxious  to  hear  from  you. 

Except  for  a  slight  cold  I  am  feeling  well  and  am 
only  fretting  for  the  time  to  come  when  I  shall  get 
out  of  here  and  to  the  front.  We  have  a  good 


52  WAR  LETTERS 

many  marches  here — from  four  to  five  every  week 
and  plenty  of  target  practice  and  sham  battles. 
Altogether  it  is  rather  enjoyable  and  interesting. 
This  last  week  has  been  quite  cold  and  we  had 
some  snow.  To-day  it  looks  more  like  rain  by  the 
afternoon. 

Last  Wednesday  Dave  Wheeler  and  three  Eng- 
lishmen arrived  from  Lyons  with  the  batch  of 
recruits  sent  that  day  and  they  are  all  in  the 
Fourth  Company  while  I  am  in  the  Second.  If 
possible  I  am  going  to  get  in  with  them.  The 
Fourth  is  the  better  company  and  they  all  seem  to 
be  sure  that  they  will  be  sent  to  the  front  by  the 
15th  of  March  and  those  in  this  company  know 
nothing  about  going  out  that  soon.  Anyway  I 
want  to  get  with  Dave  and  we  are  hoping  it  can 
be  arranged  this  week.  The  three  Englishmen 
are  very  pleasant  and  it  will  be  much  nicer  if  we 
can  all  hang  together. 

There  has  been  talk  that  the  Legion  Etrangere 
will  be  sent  to  help  take  Constantinople  and  go 
off  very  soon,  but  most  discredit  that  rumor.  The 
combined  French  and  English  fleets  are  going  to 
seize  that  city  and  it  would  be  a  mighty  interest- 
ing and  exciting  campaign  to  take  part  in  and  I 
really  would  not  be  disappointed  if  the  government 
sent  us  there  instead  of  to  the  German  campaign. 
As  long  as  we  get  sent  out  soon  it  will  be  all  right 
to  me — wherever  we  go. 


EDMOND  GENET  53 

Premier  Regiment  fitranger,  Seme  Compagnie. 

Depot  de  la  Seme  Compagnie, 

Lyons,  Rh6ne,  France. 

March  18th,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  ROD, 

This  next  Saturday  with  about  900  others  I  leave 
here  for  the  front.  It  has  only  been  about  six 
weeks  since  I  enlisted  and  I  think  I  have  been 
very  lucky  to  be  going  out  so  soon.  I  left  Camp 
de  La  Valbonne  last  Tuesday.  We  came  here  to 
receive  the  final  fixings  to  our  outfit  and  the  new 
rifles  issued  to  all  preparatory  to  going  to  the 
front.  We  sure  are  mighty  glad  to  be  going  out 
and  I  am  not  the  least  of  the  joyful  ones. 

The  days  are  getting  warm  and  pleasant  now 
and  Spring  is  here  all  right.  On  the  marches  we 
took  while  at  Valbonne  I  saw  the  first  flowers  of 
Spring.  We  are  surely  going  out  at  a  good  time 
and  the  fighting  is  beginning  to  pick  up  after  the 
winter's  trench-work  and  we  all  expect  to  be  in 
some  lively  times  within  the  coming  two  months. 
The  war  may  be  over  by  June  or  July. 

There  is  one  other  American  fellow  with  me  and 
I  expect  we  shall  meet  quite  a  good  many  more 
out  at  the  front  in  other  detachments  of  the  Legion. 
There  sure  is  some  collection  of  people  in  this  out- 
fit. I  think  I  have  met  every  nationality  except 
Chinese,  Indians  and  Hindus.  There  are  even 
German  Jews  in  it,  and  many  of  them  can  only 
speak  German.  How  they  get  taken  in  I  can't 
imagine  but  they  are  here  just  the  same  and  most 
of  them  are  lazy  and  good-for-nothing.  German 


54  WAR  LETTERS 

is  a  harsh  enough  language  to  hear  but  when  a 
Jew  speaks  it  it  sure  sounds  ridiculous. 

The  knapsack  and  blanket,  etc.,  we  have  to  carry 
about  on  our  backs  is  some  big  and  heavy.  Our 
rifle  is  all  right  though.  The  French  use  the  La 
Belle,  1886.  It  has  a  magazine  something  like  the 
Winchester — beneath  the  barrel,  and  holds  8  shells 
in  the  magazine  with  a  cut-off  so  that  the  rifle  can 
be  fired  by  single  shells  injected  apart  from  the 
magazine.  It  is  not  as  good  or  as  complete  as  our 
new  Springfield  rifle  but  it  isn't  very  bad  either. 
The  bayonet  is  long  and  needle-shaped.  The  bul- 
let is  solid  copper  and  a  trifle  larger  and  heavier 
than  the  German  one.  I  was  able  to  do  some 
pretty  good  shooting  at  the  camp  so  I  guess  I  can 
hold  my  own  at  the  front.  I'll  do  my  best  anyway. 
It  will  be  kill  or  be  killed  and  I'm  not  exactly  will- 
ing to  depart  from  this  tranquil  (??)  life  just  yet. 

Do  write  to  me,  Rod.,  and  tell  me  how  you  are 
getting  along.  Best  best  luck,  dear  Brother,  and 
lots  of  love. 

3e  Regiment  Marche.     Premier  Stranger, 

ler  Bataillon,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  115,  France. 

March  24th,  1915. 

MY   DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Last  Saturday  noon  we  left  Lyons  for  here — the 
front.  That  is  as  much  as  I  can  tell  you  of  my 
whereabouts  from  now  on  except  that  I  am  in  the 
north  of  France.  It  is  strictly  against  rules  to  men- 
tion either  where  one  is  or  anything  about  the  fight- 


EDMOND  GENET  55 

ing.  The  Captain  has  to  read  all  letters  sent  out 
and  he  destroys  those  which  may  reveal  anything 
to  be  kept  secret.  I  am  in  a  small  village  which 
is  almost  on  the  main  line  of  trenches  and  only  about 
two  miles  from  the  German  lines.  The  reports 
of  the  guns  on  the  line  are  very  distinct  and  were  all 
the  twenty-two  miles  we  had  to  walk  yesterday 
morning  from  the  town  where  we  left  the  train  on 
Monday.  Even  during  the  night  I  heard  an  occa- 
sional boom  although  I  enjoyed  the  best  sleep  I 
have  had  since  leaving  La  Valbonne.  To  go  back 
to  where  I  started — Lyons,  a  strange  thing  hap- 
pened just  before  I  left  there  on  the  train.  While 
waiting  at  the  depot  I  was  handed  three  letters. 
It  sure  cheered  me  up  to  get  them  especially  at 
the  very  time  of  departure  for  the  front  when  I 
had  no  one  to  bid  good-by  to. 

The  trip  up  here  by  train  lasted  from  noon  Satur- 
day to  early  on  Monday  morning  when  we  arrived 
at  a  small  town  22  miles  southwest  of  here  and 
slept  over  that  night  there  in  a  large  barn.  Just 
after  we  landed  there  we  sighted  a  German  aero- 
plane high  up  but  it  passed  westward  and  out  of 
sight.  It  was  our  first  taste  of  war.  I  have  seen 
three  French  ones  around  here  since.  Guess  it 
won't  be  long  before  I'll  see  aero  fights  and  every- 
thing else.  To-morrow  we  go  out  for  five  days  at 
the  trenches,  after  that  we  have  five  days'  work, 
digging  trenches  if  there  are  any  to  be  dug.  And 
then  five  days  of  complete  rest  and  so  on.  The 
danger  starts  to-morrow. 


56  WAR  LETTERS 

All  the  way  on  the  train  we  were  treated  fine. 
At  almost  every  stop  we  were  served  coffee,  wine  or 
bouillon  and  bread,  etc.,  by  Red  Cross  nurses  and 
all  that  was  in  addition  to  the  regular  rations  issued 
to  us.  We  sang  and  really  had  a  great  time.  We 
changed  trains  for  the  north  very  near  Paris,  but 
did  not  see  the  city  itself.  The  weather  has  been 
fine  and  I  was  really  surprised  to  find  all  along  the 
trip  out  how  beautiful  and  picturesque  the  country 
is. 

(The  bang-bangs  of  the  guns  at  the  line  are  very 
plain  here — I  hear  them  now.) 

Surely  the  women  of  France  are  doing  their  share 
in  the  war.  They  all  were  so  nice  to  us  the  way  out. 
Every  station  seems  to  have  two  or  more  of  them 
with  things  to  feed  the  soldiers  as  they  pass  on  their 
way  to  the  front  or  the  wounded  as  they  pass  on 
their  way  to  the  hospitals.  How  many,  many  of 
them  are  facing  bullets  just  to  help  us  when  we  are 
wounded !  Surely  they  are  to  be  honored  as  well 
as  the  men  who  do  the  actual  fighting. 

Lydon,  my  American  comrade,  was  with  me  all 
the  way  from  Lyons  but  he  has  been  placed  in 
some  other  company  here  yesterday  and  possibly 
one  of  the  2nd  battalion  and  thus  far  I  have  been 
unable  to  locate  him  although  he  must  be  around 
here  somewhere.  It  seems  utterly  impossible  for 
me  to  permanently  get  with  any  of  the  comrades  I 
want  to.  First  Wheeler  is  left  at  La  Valbonne  and 
now  Lydon  is  put  in  some  other  company.  If  we 
were  together  and  one  of  us  is  wounded — or  worse— 


EDMOND  GENET  57 

the  other  could  let  his  people  know  of  it  and  help 
him  in  lots  of  other  ways.  Such  seems  to  be  im- 
possible. There  are  two  or  three  I  have  met  in  the 
company  here  who  speak  English  and  from  them  I 
have  learned  some  of  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  fight- 
ing and  what  to  do  and  expect  and  what  not  to. 
Now  that  the  rainy  season  is  pretty  well  over  the 
trench  fighting  will  not  be  such  a  terrible  hardship 
as  those  who  have  been  here  through  the  winter  say 
it  was.  One  has  to  keep  "below  decks "  to  save  his 
life  though  and  the  worst  fear  is  from  bombs,  etc. 

Good-by  for  this  time,  darling  little  Mother. 
Last  night  I  stopped  in  the  Church  which  is  in  the 
village  and  asked  God  to  help  me  to  be  a  man  and  a 
Christian — even  to  my  foes  and  to  give  me  strength 
and  courage  to  win  in  this  war  and  come  back  to  do 
my  part  to  make  your  lives  happy  and  free  from 
care  and  trouble.  We  all  believe  in  God  but  there 
are  only  a  few  who  really  are  not  afraid  to  show  it. 


3e  Regiment  Marche.     Premier  fitranger, 
ler  Bataillon,  4e  Compagnie. 
Secteur  postal  115,  France. 
March  26th,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

You  never  before  received  a  letter  quite  like  this 
because  it  is  being  written  in  the  very  front  line  of 
the  trenches,  with  bullets  singing  and  hissing  all 
around,  and  "Les  Allemands"  (The  Germans)  in 
their  trenches  not  400  metres  away.  I  am  seated 
in  a  small  "dugout"  underneath  the  outer  trench 


58  WAR  LETTERS 

wall  (where  we  sleep — three  or  four,  or  more,  as  the 
size  of  the  place  may  allow,  while  we  are  off  duty). 
There  is  straw  on  the  ground  and  it  is  really  quite 
warm  and  comfortable,  though  crowded. 

On  account  of  regulations  I  cannot  tell  you  where 
on  the  line  I  am,  and  also  very  little  concerning  the 
movements  of  the  troops,  etc.,  but  I'll  tell  as  much 
as  I  possibly  can  and  you'll  have  to  just  imagine 
the  rest. 

I  left  Lyons  last  Saturday  noon  and,  after  leav- 
ing the  train  at  a  small  town,  within  twenty-two 
miles  of  the  line,  early  Monday  and  staying  there 
over  that  night,  we  marched  the  rest  of  the  dis- 
tance the  following  morning  to  another  small  ham- 
let about  two  miles  back  of  here  which  is  the  base 
of  the  regiment  in  these  parts. 

I  have  just  been  outside  and  watching  the  French 
firing  at  a  German  aeroplane.  Earlier  this  morn- 
ing I  saw  the  reverse.  One  sees  the  little  puffs  of 
white  smoke  burst  out  around  the  plane  in  the  blue 
of  the  sky  and  a  second  or  so  later  comes  the  dull 
boom  of  the  report.  Thus  far  I've  seen  no  aero- 
plane fights.  Even  firing  one's  rifle  at  the  trenches 
opposite  is  far,  far  from  being  non-dangerous. 
(Just  now  I  hear  the  incessant  crackling  of  a  French 
mitrailleuse — it  sounds  like  a  pack  of  mandarin 
firecrackers  going  off.)  In  the  daytime  one  cannot 
put  his  head  up  over  the  top  of  the  trench — he 
fires  through  the  port-holes  and  has  to  do  it  quick 
or  have  his  face  smashed  by  the  return  fire  of  the 
watchful  enemy.  We  watch  the  opposite  trenches 


EDMOND  GENET  59 

by  means  of  the  periscopical  glasses  through  which 
one  can  see  when  below  the  top  of  the  trench.  In 
the  night,  firing  is  a  trifle  different  and  in  many  ways 
more  dangerous.  A  more  careful  watch  has  to  be 
maintained  all  the  time.  Then  we  fire  over  the 
top  of  the  trench  at  any  flash  of  an  enemy's  rifle  and 
they,  of  course,  do  the  same.  One  has  to  take  the 
99  chances  of  being  either  seen  when  he  puts  his 
head  up  or  of  being  hit  by  a  stray  bullet  because  the 
firing  never  ceases  and  bullets  are  hissing  and 
ripping  the  air  all  about.  Besides  all  this  there  are 
the  bombs  bursting  over  the  trenches  and  sending 
their  little  missiles  of  death  screaming  down  at  you. 

The  French  "soixante-quinze"  (75)  is  the  big 
gun  which  is  doing  the  wonderful  work.  They've 
got  the  ranges  down  so  that  they  can  tip  the  shells 
right  into  the  German  trenches.  The  French 
surely  are  away  ahead  of  the  Germans  in  artillery 
fire. 

Being  "under  fire"  is  no  joke,  dear  Brother,  even 
if  it  is  mighty  exciting  and  perhaps  interesting  as 
well.  We  have  five  days  of  it  at  a  time,  going  back 
to  the  "base"  for  five  days'  rest.  I  believe  we  go 
back  on  the  29th.  Each  one  of  those  five  days  gives 
one  5  x  24  x  60  x  60  x  1,000  or  more  chances  to  be 
killed  in  and  one  isn't  sleeping  very  much  of  that 
time  either. 

Yesterday  it  was  slightly  rainy  when  we  reached 
the  trenches  but  the  moon  was  bright  at  night  and 
to-day  is  glorious.  It  is  the  dark,  cloudy,  stormy 
nights  that  will  be  the  watchful  ones  and  those  who 


60  WAR  LETTERS 

have  been  here  through  the  winter  say  they  have 
had  some  mighty  hard  times  with  the  water  almost 
to  their  thighs  and  the  bitter  cold  to  contend  with 
besides  all  the  danger. 


3e  Regiment  Marche.     Premier  Stranger, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  101,  France. 

April  5th,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

I  was  in  the  trenches  from  late  Thurs.  afternoon, 
March  25th,  until  late  on  Sunday  the  28th, — only 
three  days  so  far.  The  following  Tuesday  our  de- 
tachment— 3e  Regiment  Marche — left  where  it  is 
(or  where  I  am  now)  and  came  (most  of  the  way  in 
large  auto-buses)  south  to  this  postal  secteur  (101) 
back  of  the  2nd  line  where  we  are  having  a  rest 
and  may  be  here  a  month  or  six  weeks. 

Yours  and  Rivers'  letters  (the  1st  ones  written) 
sure  did  make  me  feel  pretty  downhearted  and  mis- 
erable— I  felt  like  an  outcast  from  everything  and 
everywhere.  I  have  sort  of  let  things  settle  in  my 
mind  since  and  they  don't  appear  quite  as  bad. 
Of  course  there  is  the  loss  of  citizenship,  but  I  knew 
that  would  result  although  believed  it  could  be 
regained  easier  than  Rivers  evidently  believes. 
As  you  say,  my  record  here  in  France  will  or  may 
help  a  good  deal  and  the  fact  that  I  was  under 
age.  Never  mind,  dear  Mother,  things  will  pass 
out  all  right  in  time.  If  I  could  live  my  life  over 
again  it  would  be  very  different  from  what  it  has 


EDMOND  GENET  61 

been.  I  would  never  have  lost  these  2  years  out 
of  school,  never  tried  for  the  Academy  at  all,  and 
spent  all  the  money  for  a  short  college  term  for 
mechanical  engineering  or  naval  architecture  or 
the  like  and  never  have  been  in  the  Navy  at  all; 
but  "it  is  as  it  is"  so  let's  look  on  the  brightest 
side  possible  and  take  things  as  they  come.  I  am 
glad  that  those  letters  came,  as  now  I  know  exactly 
how  things  were  in  regard  to  the  "G." 

You  calculated  very  well  because  yesterday  was 
Easter  and  your  letter  of  the  19th  with  the  cards 
from  you  and  Aunt  F.  which  pleased  me  very 
much,  Mother  dear,  came  to-day,  just  the  day 
after  Easter. 

I  slept  late  yesterday  morning — until  about  ten 
and  spent  the  day  quietly.  In  the  afternoon, 
Lydon,  the  young  fellow  from  Boston,  and  two 
other  English-speaking  fellows,  one  from  'Frisco, 
played  "Bridge."  It  was  a  rainy  day  and  it  has 
been  rainy  since  Saturday  morning.  Last  Easter 
I  spent  in  Ossining  on  my  first  leave  from  the 
Training  Station  at  Newport.  Some  difference  this 
one!  I  thought  of  my  little  Mother  so  far  away 
and  wished  I  could  be  going  to  Church  with  her. 

The  adjutant  of  this  company  was  at  Valbonne 
while  I  was  there  and  came  out  with  us  and  he  has 
been  mighty  pleasant  and  kind  to  me.  He  speaks 
just  a  little  English  and  the  other  day  he  presented 
me  with  an  English-French  translation  book.  I 
am  progressing  with  French  but  very  slowly.  I 
am  poor  at  memorizing  words. 


62  WAR  LETTERS 

Thanks  very  much  for  the  newspaper  clippings— 
especially  the  one  about  the  Georgia.  I  am  not 
surprised  to  find  that  Mexico  is  starting  to  boil 
over  again  but  was  surprised  to  hear  that  the 
Georgia  was  ordered  there.  Naval  plans  have  all 
been  turned  around  for  this  year. 

You  recall  my  speaking  of  Dave  Wheeler  being 
with  me  at  Lyons  and  La  Valbonne.  Two  weeks 
ago  he  came  out  with  a  large  detachment  from  the 
camp  and  joined  us.  He  is  in  the  3rd  company 
1st  battalion  and  so  is  very  near  me.  We  are  with 
each  other  practically  every  night  and  take  walks 
together.  Last  Sunday  evening  we  went  out  into 
the  woods  beside  a  pretty  stream  near  here  and 
had  a  camp-fire,  a  feast  with  coffee  which  I  made 
quite  a  success  in  making.  He  is  a  thorough  out- 
of-doors  fellow,  having  hunted  and  hiked  through  a 
big  part  of  Canada  and  besides  is  a  gentleman  and 
a  mighty  fine  fellow.  If  something  happens  to  me 
and  you  don't  hear  for  a  long  time  write  to  him. 
If  anything  happens  to  me  though  he'll  probably 
write  anyway,  the  same  as  I  would  write  to  his 
wife  if  something  happened  to  him. 

We  are  in  a  different  place  from  where  we  were 
when  I  last  wrote,  a  very  pretty  place  farther  south. 
We  left  the  other  town  early  last  week.  We're  still 
on  the  repose  and  when  we'll  get  out  to  the  front 
again  is  very  indefinitely  known  thus  far. 

Before  I  started  to  write  this  I  had  just  finished 
taking  a  good  bath  in  the  cool  water  of  the  stream 


EDMOND  GENET  63 

which  runs  through  the  place  and  afterward  I 
sewed  up  the  torn  places  in  my  blue  outer  trousers. 
We  no  longer  wear  red  trousers  but  have  brown  or 
some  other  dark-colored  ones  and  blue  light  over- 
trousers  on  top.  They  are  serving  out  gray  over- 
coats in  place  of  the  blue  ones  also.  .  .  . 

Many  thanks  for  the  Cross.  I've  put  it  in  the 
testament — the  Crucifixion — St.  John.  I  always 
liked  St.  John  more  than  the  other  three.  .  .  . 

The  trees  and  foliage  are  fast  putting  on  their 
green  coats  and  the  days  are  wonderful.  I  sup- 
pose, though,  that  it  is  the  same  back  in  the  States. 
I've  picked  violets  and  buttercups  and  daisies  just 
as  I  used  to  in  old  Ossining.  They  are  just  the 
same  here  as  there  only  there  it  is  home — a  big,  big 
difference  to  me.  Well,  I  hope  to  be  there  again 
some  day,  Mother  dear,  with  you  and  the  boys. 
I'm  not  looking  for  a  souvenir  "made  in  Germany." 
You  know  what  that  is. 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 


3e  Regiment  Marche.     Premier  fitranger, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  101,  France. 

May  9th,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

We  are  all  getting  rather  weary  of  this  repose, 
especially  Dave  Wheeler  and  I  and  hope  it  will 
terminate  very  shortly.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
talk  about  our  being  detailed  for  service  in  Turkey 


64  WAR  LETTERS 

and  we  sure  would  be  decidedly  glad  (overjoyed  in 
fact)  if  such  did  come  about.  'Though  it  would  no 
doubt  be  terribly  hot  there  'twould  be  seeing  more 
of  the  world  and  that  sure  is  better  than  staying  in 
one  country  all  the  time. 

In  yesterday's  paper  was  the  startling  news  that 
the  Lusitania  has  been  torpedoed  and  sunk  by  the 
Germans,  with  many  wealthy  and  prominent 
Americans  aboard.  I  have  only  learned  a  few  facts 
of  the  story  as  I  did  not  get  a  chance  to  buy  a 
paper  to  read  it  myself  but  hope  to  get  one  of  to- 
day's which  probably  will  contain  a  more  complete 
account.  It  sounds  startling  enough  and  if  true 
what  action  will  the  States  take?  I  was  wonder- 
ing over  that  question  on  guard  last  night.  Surely 
when  the  Germans  torpedo  ships  which  are  un- 
armed and  carrying  peaceful  and  neutral  passen- 
gers of  the  IT.  S.  that  country  ought  to  do  consid- 
erable at  once. 

It  is  against  the  rules  of  international  warfare 
nowadays  for  troops  to  attack  a  defenseless  town 
unoccupied  by  hostile  troops  even  though  it  be  a 
hostile  town,  so  surely  it  is  just  as  much  if  not  more 
against  such  rules  for  a  nation  to  torpedo  an  un- 
armed ship  of  a  nation  even  though  it  be  a  ship  of 
the  enemy.  If  all  I've  heard  is  true  about  this 
affair  let's  see  what  our  present  administration  will 
do  now. 

Two  days  ago  I  received  a  very  nice  letter  from 
an  old  shipmate  on  the  Georgia  to  whom  I  wrote 
while  in  La  Valbonne.  He  is  the  Canteen  Yeoman, 


EDMOND  GENET  65 

Joe  Tackas  by  name,  from  Brooklyn.  They  are 
in  Vera  Cruz,  or  were  when  he  wrote  it  on  March 
29th,  doing  just  what  we  were  doing  a  year  ago — 
watching,  waiting,  and  enjoying  a  peaceful  time  in 
the  meanwhile.  From  what  he  says  I  don't  believe 
any  of  the  friends  I  made  on  board  think  any  the 
less  of  me  for  coming  over  here  as  I  did.  Navy 
men  don't  look  at  that  particular  point  in  just  the 
same  light  as  do  outsiders.  They  usually  "under- 
stand." I  wish  my  dear  little  Mother  could  under- 
stand in  just  the  same  way  but  it  is  practically  im- 
possible for  me  to  explain  adequately. 

Possibly  the  Georgia  will  not  be  present  at  the 
mobilization  in  N.  Y.  in  June  if  Daniels  holds  her 
at  Vera  Cruz,  but  most  likely  the  Virginia  will  be 
present  and  I  sure  hope  you  will  get  an  opportunity 
to  see  Mr.  Pearce  then. 

May  25th,  1915. 

We  have  6  days  on  the  line  and  6  days  repose 
alternating  with  the  other  Battalion.  There  wasn't 
much  excitement  while  we  were  out  on  the  line. 
We  were  shelled  a  couple  of  times  with  no  damage 
resulting.  The  weather  is  holding  fine  and  I  feel 
pretty  fine.  I  even  think  I  am  gaining  in  weight. 
I've  already  become  sunburned  quite  a  bit  by 
working  under  the  hot  sun  with  only  my  light  sleeve- 
less undershirt  on  above  my  waist. 

Another  fellow  of  my  squad,  from  Colombia, 
S.  America  (he  speaks  English)  and  myself  are 
sleeping  together  in  a  tent  out-of-doors  and  enjoy- 


66  WAR  LETTERS 

ing  it  considerably.  It  bids  fair  to  be  unendurably 
hot  in  this  country  by  the  time  July  comes,  con- 
sidering the  warmth  at  the  present  time. 

I  am  sending  you  some  pretty  little  "Forget-me- 
nots"  (I  think  that  is  what  they  are)  with  this 
letter.  Very  appropriate,  n'est-ce  pas?  I  picked 
them  in  a  private  garden  of  a  chateau  which  is  near 
the  line  and  entirely  destroyed  by  former  shell- 
fire.  They  are  the  first  of  that  flower  I've  ever 
seen  growing.  There  is  a  very  large  bed  of  them 
there — white  and  blue  ones.  I  have  also  seen  many 
patches  of  "Periwinkle"  growing  wild  in  the  woods 
we  have  passed  through.  They  are  the  first  I've 
seen  since  the  little  bed  we  had  of  them  at  the  old 
home.  Dad  used  to  like  to  wear  one  or  two  in 
his  buttonhole  for  Church,  I  remember,  and  I  used 
to  watch  for  them  to  come  out  early  in  the  Spring — 
around  Easter-time. 

What  do  you  think  of  me  finding  27  four-leaf 
clovers  yesterday  morning  ?  I  hope  they  bring  me 
lots  of  luck.  I  never  could  find  four-leaf  clovers 
in  the  States  and  I'm  always  picking  them  up 
over  here.  There  are  wonderful  fields  of  clover  here 
anyway.  There  is  one  field  near  here  that  is  just 
red  with  the  blossoms  now  and  it  sure  is  pretty. 
What  fine  fields  for  herding  cows  upon  for  good 
milk  and  yet,  on  account  of  the  land  being  needed 
so  much  for  agricultural  purposes,  the  country 
people  keep  their  cows  in  the  barns  as  a  general 
rule  practically  all  the  time. 


EDMOND  GENET  67 

Poor  is  mighty  hard  at  work  over  her 

studies  to  graduate  in  June  and  go  to  college  next 
term  but  she  is  mighty  enthusiastic  over  me  fight- 
ing the  "disease"  (the  Germans,  including  the 
Kaiser,  have  been  very  correctly  called  that)  and 
she  (though  it  sounds  foolish  to  me)  says  I  am  one 
of  the  finest  men  she  has  ever  met,  etc.,  etc., 
etc. !  !  !  Some  girl ! 

She  wrote  part  of  her  letter  in  French  and  I  spent 
an  hour  or  so  vainly  endeavoring  to  write  only  one 
paragraph  of  my  reply  in  the  "blamed  lingo." 
Sh^/11  be  capable  of  becoming  an  expert  detective  if 
bne  can  ferret  out  the  mystery  of  that  French  which 
I  wrote.  It's  hard  enough  to  talk  but — well,  I'd 
rather  not  express  my  ideas  about  its  being  written. 

I  do  wish  you  and  Rivers  could  get  a  little  apart- 
ment or  something  like  one,  as  you  said.  Do  try 
to  do  it,  Mother,  as  it  will  be  much  better  for  you 
both. 

You  may,  no  doubt,  be  interested  to  know  that  I 
have  the  "Stars  and  Stripes"  flying  at  the  forward 
peak  of  the  tent.  With  me  (from  the  States)  on 
one  side  and  the  young  fellow  from  Colombia,  S. 
America,  on  the  other  it  surely  is  an  American 
camp.  N'est-ce  pas?  We  call  the  part  between 
our  blankets  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  (The  Canal 
is  remarkably  absent.) 


68  WAR  LETTERS 

Seme  Regiment  marche.     Premier  Stranger, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  101,  France. 

May  26th,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  BILL, 

It  had  been  in  my  mind  for  the  past  two  weeks 
to  answer  your  letter  of  April  6th  which  came  some 
time  ago  and  now  that  your  mighty  acceptable  letter 
of  May  9th  came  yesterday  it  sure  is  up  to  me  to 
make  good  my  intentions  and  try  and  pencil  you 
a  few  lines. 

You  notice  the  change  of  number  of  the  postal 
secteur.  Just  after  I  wrote  my  last  letter  to  you 
in  "  115  "  we  left  there  to  go  farther  south  for  about 
6  weeks  of  repose.  The  boys  who  have  had  all  the 
hard  winter  of  wet,  cold  trench  fighting  were  badly 
in  need  of  it  and  we  all  feel  better  for  having  had  it. 
It  wasn't  altogether  a  complete  repose  as  we  had 
some  trench-digging  to  do  on  the  reserve  lines  and 
quite  a  good  deal  of  drilling  and  the  like  but  we 
were  at  least  exempt  from  actual  fighting  which 
thus  gave  our  nerves  a  rest  that  way.  Neverthe- 
less none  of  us  are  sorry  to  be  back  on  the  firing- 
line  again  which  we  have  been  since  the  llth.  Of 
course,  I  cannot  tell  where  I  am  but  it  is  much 
farther  south  than  we  were  before.  By  being  away 
down  here  we  are  thus  missing  the  severe  fighting 
which  is  starting  to  break  forth  in  the  North  but  we 
all  trust  we'll  see  such  before  many  weeks  slip  by. 
Now  that  "Europe's  boot"  (Italy)  is  in  the  war 
something  ought  to  be  doin'  before  long.  When  the 
news  came  the  night  before  last  of  Italy  declaring 


EDMOND  GENET  69 

war  every  one  along  the  line  let  loose  with  "Vive 
Tltalie"  and  fired  their  rifles  for  all  they  were  worth 
just  to  make  a  noise  and  even  the  big  guns  were  let 
loose.  'Twas  a  thunderous  acclamation,  you  may 
be  sure.  The  Germans  must  have  thought  that 
the  fiends  of  Hell  were  out. 

We  have  had  quite  a  bit  of  artillery  action  about 
here  and  it  sure  is  great  to  listen  to  the  big  guns 
barking,  the  hissing  of  the  shells  as  they  rush 
through  the  air,  and  their  terrific  burst  off  on  the 
German  lines.  We've  had  our  share  of  the  shells 
of  the  "Bush"  too.  The  other  day  we  were  all 
gathered  around  the  "chow"  and — swish-h-h, 
swish-h-h !  two  German  77's  came  over  our  heads 
and  struck  a  few  hundred  metres  beyond.  We  lit 
out  from  that  particular  spot  right  smartly.  About 
13  days  ago  while  in  a  small  village  near  the  line 
we  had  about  20  shells  land  in  it  but  no  one  was 
hurt  very  badly  nor  was  there  much  damage  done 
to  the  houses. 

I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  tell  you  very  much 
about  the  trenches  because  of  regulations  which 
are  decidedly  strict.  They  are  dug  very  irregu- 
larly to  prevent  horizontal  fire — that  is,  if  the  en- 
emy should  get  horizontally  in  line  with  part  of  a 
trench  they  could  not  sweep  but  a  small  part  of  it 
with  gun-fire.  The  trenches  are  usually  dug  this 
way : —  n — rn — j *^=^^£s-  or  ^e  that  in  most  any 
irregular  line.  There  are  "leaders"  all  over — 
trenches  for  entrance  to  the  main  line,  etc.  A  sec- 
tion of  trenches  might  be  likened  to  a  cobweb.  In 


70  WAR  LETTERS 

front  of  the  trenches,  between  the  two  lines,  are 
barb-wire  entanglements  and  other  impeding  obsta- 
cles. Some  parts  of  the  two  lines  are  as  near  each 
other  as  twenty-five  metres  (a  metre  is  practically 
the  same  distance  as  a  yard)  and  in  other  sections 
they  are  nearly  a  kilometre  (about  60%  of  a  mile). 
It  all  depends  on  the  country  and  other  minor  dif- 
ferences. Trenches  which  have  been  used  for  a 
number  of  months  like  most  of  the  main-line  ones 
have  here  are  quite  comfortable.  There  are  caves 
in  the  sides  for  sleeping  quarters  with  hay  inside  and 
little  fireplaces,  etc.,  to  add  to  the  comfort.  In  rainy 
weather  they  are  not  so  fine.  The  water  is  often 
over  one's  ankles  and  under  the  water  is  a  half  foot 
or  more 'of  slimy  mud.  You  can  readily  imagine 
how  extremely  comfortable  such  conditions  are.  On 
the  other  hand  when  it  hasn't  rained  for  a  few  days 
everything  is  dry,  hot,  and  decidedly  dusty  but  of 
course  that  is  much  better  than  mud  and  dirty 
water.  Life  isn't  so  worse  on  the  line  though.  It 
will  be  the  open  fighting  which  will  tell  on  one's 
strength  and  nerves. 

The  other  day  I  read,  in  an  English  magazine, 
that  some  Lunacy  expert  stated  that  there  are  a 
number  of  lunatics  who  believe  themselves  to  be 
the  Kaiser.  They  are  all  wrong  but  one.  N'est- 
ce  pas?  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  am 
fighting  a  "disease"  headed  by  a  lunatic,  from  all 
that  the  Germans  have  done.  The  recent  Lusi- 
tania  affair  was  about  as  fiendish  a  piece  of  business 
as  could  possibly  be  and  I  am  waiting  to  see  what 


EDMOND  GENET  71 

the  U.  S.  will  do  in  regard  to  it.  I  understood 
yesterday  that  the  Kaiser  had  not  yet  sent  his 
reply  to  the  President.  There  sure  must  have  been 
some  excitement  in  N.  Y.  and  in  fact  everywhere 
in  the  States  when  the  news  of  the  disaster  was 
rec'd.  What  next  will  the  "disease"  do?  !  !  ! 


3e  Regiment  marche.     Premier  Stranger, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  101,  France. 

June  1st,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  STAR, 

This  beautiful  sunshiny  month  and  day  sure  com- 
menced with  a  tremendous  crash  for  us.  I  am  in 
the  trenches  on  the  first  line  and  this  morning,  early, 
the  kindly  horde  "across  the  way"  (our  quarrel- 
some neighbors)  gave  us  a  royal  breakfast  of  shells 
and  shrapnel,  mines  and  various  other  explosives 
destined  to  send  one  on  a  long,  long  journey  should 
he  unfortunately  step  in  one's  way.  The  "meal" 
has  just  been  finished  and  the  "remains"  are  being 
cleared  away.  Good  God,  but  war  is  Hell-on- 
earth !  We  have  almost  daily  bombardments  here 
but  this  has  been  the  worst  yet.  Yesterday  I  was 
dodging  77's  for  a  while. 

Such  is  life  on  the  firing-line,  Jeannette, — no 
picnic.  'Tis  grimly  humorous.  I  wish  I  had  a 
piano  here.  I'd  soon  drive  the  Germans  back  to 
their  huts  in  Berlin.  N'est-ce  pas  possible  ? 

With  "Europe's  boot"  (Italy)  into  the  game 
now  something  ought  to  be  doing  mighty  shortly. 


72  WAR  LETTERS 

Up  in  the  north  things  have  begun  to  be  pretty 
lively.  The  British  forces  are  having  their  hands 
full  practically  all  the  time.  Surely  the  German 
lines  must  drop  back  soon  with  all  the  pressure  that 
is  being  laid  on  them.  I  still  retain  hopes  that  it 
will  all  be  over  by  August  or  September.  Many, 
though,  believe  it  will  last  twelve  or  fifteen  months 
more,  but  I  doubt  that  a  great  deal. 

Is  our  noble  country  going  to  uphold  its  Ameri- 
can freedom  and  patriotism  and  show  a  strong 
forcible  hand  after  all  that  has  occurred  so  lately 
to  give  it  provocation  to  do  so  ?  The  U.  S.  certainly 
has  sufficient  grounds  for  something  more  adequate 
than  words  and  diplomatic  controversy — action. 
It  galls  me  every  day  I  read  the  paper  for  news 
about  the  States,  and  find  the  administration  is  still 
bantering  over  the  present  crisis.  Has  all  national 
pride  faded,  all  patriotism  gone  ? 

And  how  is  school  these  last  months?  I  can 
hardly  realize  it  is  the  first  of  June.  All  the  schools 
will  be  closing  soon  for  the  summer  vacation.  Were 
I  back  in  the  old  High  School  with  my  old  class  I'd 
be  graduating — the  Class  of  '15.  I'd  like  to  be 
back  to  see  the  old  classmates  get  their  "sheep- 
skins." Is  this  your  last  year,  Jeannette? 

I  suppose  you  all  have  seen  that  busy  little 
Mother  of  mine  lately. 

They  are  banging  away  at  some  aeroplane  out- 
side. I  can  hear  the  bombs  bursting.  It's  a  fas- 
cinating sight  to  see  how  close  they  come  at  times 
to  the  'plane,  but  thus  far  I've  never  seen  one 


EDMOND  GENET  73 

hit.  It  must  be  just  as  pleasant  as  swimming  in  a 
pool  of  sharks  and  crocodiles  to  be  up  there  with 
shrapnel  bombs  bursting — one  doesn't  know  where 
they  will  burst. 

Will  it  be  the  country  or  the  seashore  this  vaca- 
tion? I  suppose  the  country  with  the  cows,  pigs, 
chickens,  fresh  eggs  and  milk  and  old  clothes, 
won't  it?  You'll  practise  your  singing  on  an  old 
stile  or  stone  wall,  and  capture  half  a  dozen  delicate 
country  hearts  in  the  bargain.  "I  love  the  cows 
and  chickens  but — this  is  the  life." 


3e  Regiment  marche.     Premier  fitranger, 

ler  Bat.,  4erae  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  101,  France. 

June  2nd,  1915. 

My   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Yesterday  I  received  yours  of  the  nineteenth — 
a  mighty  welcome,  interesting  and  joy-giving  letter 
it  is  too. 

Really,  Mom,  I'm  getting  to  feel  decidedly  flat- 
tered all  around — every  one  seems  to  be  so  en- 
thusiastic over  me  and  my  1915  travels.  I'm 
afraid  I'm  getting  entirely  too  much  credit  but  I 
am  very  happy  to  know  that  things  are  as  you  and 
Chaplain  Pearce  say  in  regard  to  the  Georgia.  I 
am  slightly  at  a  loss  to  determine  exactly  how  things 
are  so  good.  Somehow,  Mother,  I  never  seem  to  be 
lacking  in  friends  (I  mean  ones  other  than  my  own 
dear  Mother  and  brothers).  Could  or  did  ever  a 
fellow  have  a  better  or  dearer  or  more  patient  and 


74  WAR  LETTERS 

loving  Mother    than   have    I,    or    kinder,    better 
brothers?     I  doubt  it  with  all  my  heart.  .  .  . 

The  day  before  yesterday  the  Germans  bom- 
barded our  section  of  the  trenches  (I  am  on  the  line) 
for  about  a  half-hour  with  shrapnel  and  77's.  I 
was  standing  in  the  trench  when  the  bombardment 
commenced  and  somehow  the  shells  burst — first  one 
to  my  right  and  then  one  to  my  left  and  so  on  and 
involuntarily  I  was  dodging  my  head  from  one  side 
to  the  other  every  time  a  shell  burst — only  a  few 
metres  to  either  side.  That  little  rain  of  shells  was 
nothing,  though,  to  the  welcome  the  Germans  gave 
us  yesterday  morning  early — the  first  day  of  beauti- 
ful June.  For  an  hour  steady  they  bombarded  the 
line  to  the  right  of  us,  three  towns  back  of  us  and 
blew  up  about  five  enormous  mines.  For  that  whole 
hour  there  was  scarcely  a  lull  between  the  bang- 
ing and  booming  of  the  guns  being  discharged,  the 
hiss-hiss  of  the  shells  hurling  through  the  air  over 
our  heads  and  the  terrific  crashing  and  banging  of 
their  explosions.  It  was  the  first  big  bombard- 
ment I've  seen  -and  it  sounded  like  Hell  let  loose 
sure  and  certain.  After  the  first  few  moments  of 
surprise  were  over  I  found  myself  holding  my  cup- 
ful of  coffee  which  I  happened  to  be  drinking  at  the 
time  without  a  tremble.  We  all  sat  on  the  barri- 
cades and  walls  and  watched  the  shells  burst  and 
the  mines — great  enormous  discharges  of  earth  and 
dense  black  smoke — as  they  burst  up  high  into  the 
air.  I  have  been  trying  to  think  how  to  describe 
the  sound  of  a  shell  as  it  goes  through  the  air,  and 


EDMOND  GENET  75 

the  best  I  can  do  is  to  say  that  it  sounds  not  unlike 
the  sound  made  when  one  puts  the  palm  of  his  hand 
quickly  over  the  open  end  of  an  iron  pipe.  One 
can  easily  tell  in  what  direction  a  shell  is  going  by 
the  sound  of  its  course  through  the  air.  There  is 
a  good  deal  of  aerial  resistance  to  a  shell  and,  of 
course,  the  larger  the  shell,  the  greater  the  resistance 
and  sound.  Artillery  fire  is  practically  all  we  are 
having  along  this  section  of  the  line.  We  are  con- 
siderably further  south  than  where  the  late  advance- 
ments have  been  made  and  hard  fighting  has  oc- 
curred. The  British  troops  and  the  northern 
French  ones  are  getting  all  that  and  it's  terrible  too. 
The  losses  have  been  quite  heavy  there  with  re- 
gard to  men.  With  Italy  on  her  way  "to  Berlin" 
from  the  South,  through  Austria-Hungary  there 
ought  to  be  considerable  doing  in  the  very  near 
future.  Italy's  declaration  of  war  has  certainly 
created  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm  among  all  the 
troops. 

I  see  by  yesterday's  paper  that  the  U.  S.  has  re- 
ceived Germany's  reply  regarding  the  Lusitania 
affair  and  it  has  created  anything  but  a  favorable 
impression  with  the  former  country.  I  shouldn't 
think  it  would.  Nor  can  I  easily  understand  why 
we  hold  off  from  forcible  action  any  longer.  What, 
too,  about  the  torpedoing  of  the  Nebraskan  ?  That 
seems  to  be  entirely  disregarded  so  far  as  I  can  see. 
Somehow  it  riles  me — this  continuous  neutrality 
after  such  insults  and  degradations  have  been  dis- 
played. Where  is  the  real  American  pride  and 


76  WAR  LETTERS 

patriotism?  Is  it  all  like  the  flimsy  white  clouds 
we  see  on  a  clear  day  that  vanish  into  nothingness  ? 
Have  we  lost  all  our  "Spirit  of  '76 "  or  our  "Spirit 
of  '98?"  Germany  is  a  disease — not  a  civilized 
nation  any  more. 

You  will  very  likely  be  relieved  to  know  that  we 
have  been  provided  with  a  device  to  prevent  us 
from  being  asphyxiated  by  the  asphyxiafing-gas 
bombs  that  the  Germans  are  using  quite  frequently 
in  this  20th  Century  international  warfare.  Civil- 
ized barbarity !  !  !  ! 

That  was  very  nice  of  Mr.  Pearce  to  invite  you 
to  the  Virginia  and  show  you  around  so  thor- 
oughly. The  Georgia  was  not  present  but  still  in 
picturesque  Vera  Cruz,  I  suppose.  There  are  quite 
a  number  of  my  old  Training  Station  mates  aboard 
the  Virginia.  The  fleet  review  and  parades  must 
have  been  very  pretty  and  inspiring  sights.  I've 
done  quite  a  bit  of  marching  here  in  this  country 
but  we  haven't  even  the  "Long  Roll"  to  stir  our 
hearts  and  ease  the  blisters  on  our  feet.  Thus  far 
I've  only  heard  one  military  band  and  that  was  at 
a  concert  while  we  were  in  repose  at  one  of  the  towns 
during  early  April.  We  used  to  whistle  and  sing 
and  once  in  a  while  some  one  would  drag  forth  a 
mouth-organ  and  play.  Even  such  poor  music  as 
these  helped  us  over  the  roads  and  made  us  forget 
the  aches  and  pains.  The  "Marseillaise"  is  a 
wonderful  marching  song.  It  sort  of  lifts  one  along. 

I  hope  the  fleet  does  get  sent  around  to  the 
Exposition  for  the  men's  sake  but  rather  guess  all 


EDMOND  GENET  77 

the  ships  are  being  held  within  "easy  reaching  dis- 
tance" in  case  of  trouble  with  the  disease  across 
the  seas.  "Preparedness"  should  be  our  country's 
watchword  at  the  present  time  and,  in  fact,  for 
some  years  to  come. 

June  15th,  1915. 

Your  letter  of  May  22nd  with  the  Fleet  review 
news  and  the  one  of  the  26th  reached  me  last 
week.  Many  thanks  for  the  clippings.  Dave  has 
them  now.  It  surely  must  have  been  a  big  event — 
or  rather  a  number  of  big  events.  The  Georgia  was 
present,  I  see.  I  thought  she  would  still  be  at  Vera 
Cruz  on  the  watch  for  things  which  will  never 
happen.  The  "boys"  on  board  the  ships  sure  must 
have  had  some  fine  times  while  on  shore  liberty. 
Did  you  see  anything  of  the  President  during  the 
parade  in  the  city  ?  He  received  quite  an  ovation. 
I  rather  guess  that  his  popularity  has  increased 
tremendously  now  that  he  is  taking  the  firm  stand 
he  is  against  Germany,  now  that  William  Jennings 
is  out  of  the  game — officially.  That  delights  me 
exceedingly — the  tardy  resignation  of  "our  man  of 
peace." 

The  last  few  days  we  had  in  the  trenches  we  were 
up  about  to  our  waists  in  mud  and  water.  We  had 
a  very  heavy  rain  one  night  and  the  trenches  filled 
with  water.  It  was  misery  in  the  tenth  degree. 
The  following  morning  there  were  quite  a  number 
killed  and  wounded  just  because  they  couldn't 
keep  out  of  sight  on  account  of  the  depth  of  the 


78  WAR  LETTERS 

water  while  trying  to  clean  it  out  and  we  all  felt  ut- 
terly down  and  out.  So  many  became  sick  with  bad 
colds,  etc.,  that  we  had  to  be  relieved  and  are  now 
trying  to  regain  our  composure  before  going  into 
the  trenches  again.  I'm  not  exactly  sick  but  I'm 
not  feeling  as  well  as  I  might  either.  I  thank  the 
good  Lord  I've  a  good  strong  constitution  and  some 
of  that  "stick-to-it-edness"  which  Mrs.  Bradshaw 
(Donovan)  used  to  tell  her  classes  to  cultivate. 
(I  find  the  above-mentioned  trait  quite  necessary, 
with  nerve,  to  keep  that  bunch  of  fur  addicted  to  my 
upper  lip  also.  It's  still  growing — I  believe.) 

June  21st,  1915. 

This  is  the  year's  longest  day  and  I  saw  the  sun 
rise  gloriously  and  brilliant  this  morning  at  quarter 
to  four.  The  days  we're  having  lately  are  simply 
wonderful. 

It's  funny  how  every  morning,  just  about  sunrise, 
that  the  sentinels  of  both  sides  have  a  morning's 
greeting  to  each  other.  Every  one  starts  to  crow 
like  a  rooster  and  once  in  a  while  some  French 
soldier  or  a  Boche  will  call  across  the  field  d'affaire, 
"Bon  jour, "  or  some  similar  greeting.  I  guess  it  is 
the  good  weather  that  makes  us  all  feel  so  sort  of 
friendly  (in  that  respect). 

I  am  eagerly  looking  for  those  letters  and  Class 
History  you  say  the  good  old  classmates  are  going 
to  send  me.  It  surely  is  mighty  nice  and  thought- 
ful of  them  all  to  think  of  me  in  such  a  generous 
manner.  They  will  all  be  graduating  some  day  this 


EDMOND  GENET  79 

week,  I  presume — probably  on  Thursday  or  Friday 
night. 

I  managed  to  see  Dave  Wheeler  for  a  short  time 
yesterday  afternoon  (it  is  pretty  difficult  to  get  to 
other  parts  of  the  trenches  for  visiting  purposes 
but  I  managed  it  yesterday  all  right)  and  he  and  I 
are  anxious  to  do  some  sort  of  Independence  Day 
celebrating  ourselves  even  though  we  will  most 
likely  be  here  in  the  trenches  that  day  and  not, 
as  would  better  suit  us  for  such  an  occasion,  in 
repose  back  of  the  line.  The  only  thing  I  can  think 
of  as  possible  is  to  wear  my  silk  flag  and  make  as 
much  noise  with  my  rifle  throughout  the  day  as 
possible,  but  we  few  Americans  may  be  able  to 
get  together  somehow  for  a  little  while  that  after- 
noon and  add  something  else  to  the  day's  hilarity. 
We'll  be  as  patriotic  as  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances anyway.  I'd  like  to  blow  up  a  few  mines 
and  have  the  artillery  going  all  day,  but  in  con- 
sideration of  the  fact  that  I  am  not  the  commander 
of  this  particular  secteur  and  also  after  due  con- 
templation of  the  disastrous  effects  to  our  noble 
enemy  which,  of  course,  would  be  unneutral-like 
and  extremely  discourteous  to  the  aforementioned 
noble  foe,  I  believe  that  such  action  will  not  be  ad- 
hered to.  Perhaps  "Les  Boches"  will  take  it  into 
their  wooden  tops  to  do  a  little  celebrating  of  their 
own  that  day  and  bombard  us  as  they  do  'most 
every  day. 

It  seems  almost  too  good  to  be  true,  dear  Mother, 
that  everything  is  O.  K.  with  me  and  the  N.  Dept. 


80  WAR  LETTERS 

I  do  hope  it  is  so  and  wish  you  or  Rivers  could  find 
out  to  an  absolute  certainty  and  let  me  know.  I 
never  believed  such  an  action  would  be  taken  by  a 
ship's  authorities.  Was  such  action  really  taken 
by  the  "G."  or  by  the  Dept.  itself?  Why  should, 
or,  rather,  how  could  a  good  record  offset  "d'tion" 
is  what  is  sticking  in  my  mind. 

It  surely  was  mighty  hard  luck  that  that  brilliant 
young  English  aviator,  Warneford,  who  so  heroic- 
ally won  the  V.  C.  and  the  Legion  d'Honneur  only 
a  little  over  a  week  ago  by  vanquishing  a  Zeppelin 
in  Belgium,  should  have  been  killed  a  couple  of 
days  ago  when  flying  with  that  American  journal- 
ist, Needham.  I  have  often  been  wondering  how 
Norman  Prince,  the  young  American  aviator  whom 
I  met  on  board  the  Rochambeau  and  who  joined, 
in  February,  the  French  Aviation  Corps,  is  getting 
along.  If  you  ever  read  anything  concerning  him 
in  the  papers  please  send  me  the  article  or  let  me 
know  about  it  anyway.  He  surely  is  a  fine  young 
man. 

The  Germans  don't  seem  to  be  calming  down  any 
in  the  States,  do  they  ?  They  certainly  seem  bound 
to  make  things  come  to  a  crisis  at  all  hazards. 

Paris,  Gare  du  Nord. 

July  7th,  1915. 
British  Red  Cross  Annex. 

Just  a  few  hasty  lines  to  say  I  am  in  Paris  for 
the  two  days.  There  were  21  of  us  came  in  yester- 
day afternoon  getting  here  about  9.30  last  night. 


EDMOND  GENET  81 

Lydon,  my  friend  from  Boston,  has  been  with  me  all 
the  time.  We  are  both  almost  "broke"  but  getting 
along  O.  K.  in  spite  of  that  fact  and  enjoying  the 
brief  visit.  Last  night  we  took  advantage  of  the 
hospitality  of  the  British  Red  Cross  Annex  here  in 
the  R.  R.  Station  for  soldiers  and  slept  soundly 
once  again  in  "real"  beds.  This  is  the  late  P.  M. 
now  and  we  drifted  in  for  a  while  after  walking 
around  the  city  taking  in  the  sights.  All  this  morn- 
ing we  tried  to  get  some  money  from  our  Consul 
but  (the  fact  astonishes  both  of  us  a  mighty  big 
lot)  there  was  absolutely  nothing  doing  as  far  as  he 
was  concerned.  We  did  get  a  few  francs  from  some 
other  American  which  will  carry  us  through  fairly 
well,  but  we'll  have  to  make  use  of  the  British 
hospitality  again  to-night  I  guess  and — being 
Americans — I  sure  am  decidedly  rebellious  about 
having  to  even  think  of  doing  such  a  thing. 

The  ladies  here  at  the  R.  C.  Annex  have  been 
treating  us  finely.  I  wonder  where  there  is  an 
English  Red  Cross  Branch  or  Hospital  where  sol- 
diers are  not  treated  like  real  men? 

Paris  is  very  bright  and  gay  now  and  crowded. 
One  doesn't  see  very  many  Americans  though. 

The  kind  French  gentleman,  Mr.  Guerquin,  who 
was  so  good  to  me  when  I  came  over  in  Jan.  is  here 
in  Paris  at  the  same  hotel  where  I  stopped  before. 
I  stopped  there  last  night  and  got  my  suitcase  and 
wanted  to  get  my  shaving  outfit  and  put  some 
things  in  it.  To-night  I'll  take  it  back  and  leave 
it  there  again. 


82  WAR  LETTERS 

There's  a  piano  in  the  Annex  here  and  I've  been 
playing  on  it  some  this  afternoon.  My !  How 
good  it  is  to  touch  the  keys  once  more. 

There  are  not  many  soldiers  on  the  streets  in  the 
city — mostly  those  seen  are  wounded.  There  are 
plenty  of  officers  though. 

Friday  morning  we  leave  to  go  back  to  the  regi- 
ment on  the  6.30  train.  We  go  out  via  Creil  and 
Clermond  and  Montdidier.  We  have  been  around 
the  latter  town  a  good  deal. 

3e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  Stranger, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  86,  France. 

July  10th,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  7th  I  wrote  you  a  rather 
hurried  letter  from  the  English  Red  Cross  Canteen 
at  the  Gare  du  Nord,  Paris,  telling  you  we  had  come 
there  for  the  two  days'  leave,  that  I  was  with  Lydon 
and — broke. 

The  following  day,  the  8th,  ten  of  us  met  at  the 
Place  d'Opera  and  went  to  the  Embassy  to  express 
our  thanks  to  the  Ambassador  for  using  his  influence 
to  secure  us  the  two  days  and  we  had  as  our  spokes- 
man, the  father  of  one  of  the  fellows,  Mr.  Chapman 
of  New  York,  who  is  very  wealthy  and  a  very  pleas- 
ant man.  The  Ambassador  seemed  very  pleased 
at  our  coming  to  thank  him  and  said  he  wished  us 
success  in  getting  through  the  conflict  with  all  our 
limbs  and  with  sound  healthy  bodies.  After  the 


BDMOND  GENET  83 

visit  Mr.  Chapman  made  us  all  go  with  him  to  be 
photographed  for  the  press  as  it  is  believed  it  was 
the  American  press  in  Paris  who  got  the  Ambassa- 
dor to  get  us  the  leave,  and  Mr.  Chapman  is  going 
to  present  each  of  us  with  a  copy.  He  asked  us 
if  we 'would  prefer  to  have  them  sent  to  us  direct 
or  to  our  parents,  so  some  of  us  said  (as  they  might 
spoil  if  in  our  hands)  we  would  be  glad  if  he  sent 
them  to  our  home  so  mine  is  going  to  you,  dear 
Mother,  as  soon  as  it  is  finished  and  Mr.  Chapman 
mails  it.  I  wish  all  of  us  were  there  in  the  picture 
but  unfortunately  only  ten  of  us  are  in  it  and,  as 
Dave  was  left  out  of  the  two  days  entirely  by  being 
in  the  trenches  at  the  time  we  left,  he  wasn't  even 
in  Paris  to  be  in  anything.  Mr.  Chapman  sure 
did  treat  us  all  finely.  One  gentleman  who  was  at 
the  Embassy  and  talked  with  us  handed  out  fifty 
francs  for  tobacco  but  we  thought  it  best  to  divide 
it  up,  each  getting  a  dollar  so  we  could  do  what  we 
liked  with  our  share.  It  helped  Lydon  and  I  out 
quite  a  bit  for  eats,  etc.  Mr.  Chapman  treated  us 
to  two  Havanas  apiece  anyway.  That  afternoon 
Lydon  and  I  called  upon  Dave's  wife  whose  hotel 
address  I  had  and  I  had  a  very  pleasant  talk  with 
her.  That  evening  we  had  dinner  with  Lydon's 
corporal.  The  following  morning  (yesterday)  we 
all  took  the  6  A.  M.  train  back  to  here — a  sorry 
bunch  but  mighty  glad  of  the  visit  to  gay  Paris 
which  sure  did  come  very  unexpectedly.  I'm  still 
pretty  sleepy. 

There  is  a  chance  that  I  will  get  the  regular  four 


84  WAR  LETTERS 

days'  leave  to  Paris  that  is  being  given  to  the  regi- 
ment— to  those  who  have  been  in  the  trenches 
fighting  for  six  months.  If  I  do  it  will  not  be  for 
a  month  or  6  weeks  yet  anyway,  so  last  night  I 
wrote  to  Uncle  Clair  to  send  me  if  possible  a  money 
order  for  ten  dollars  so  I  can  have  something  to 
get  along  on  should  I  get  that  leave  in  late  August 
or  early  September.  I  surely  don't  want  to  go 
four  days  there  on  charity  as  it  was  mighty  dis- 
tasteful to  me  to  have  to  go  even  two  days  that  way. 
Our  picture  ought  to  be  in  the  papers  of  the 
States — the  Herald  I  should  think  anyway — one  of 
these  present  days,  and  if  so  I  only  hope  you  see  it 
and  recognize  your  "youngest."  He's  sitting  down 
in  front  between  two  others.  The  rest  are  standing 
behind.  Directly  back  of  me  was  Chapman,  the 
son  of  the  gentleman  who  treated  us  so  finely  and 
had  the  picture  taken.  I  am  not  quite  sure  where 
Lydon  was  standing  but  believe  he  is  the  third  from 
the  left.  The  boy  sitting  on  my  left  side  is  William 
Dugan  from  Rochester,  N.  Y.  The  one  on  the 
right  is  a  jolly  colored  fellow.  I  am  not  sure  what 
part  of  the  States  he  hails  from.  The  colored  fel- 
low standing  toward  the  centre  of  the  back  row 
was  the  life  of  the  party.  I  trust  the  photo,  reaches 
you  all  right.  The  3  on  our  coats  stands  for  3rd  de 
marche.  I  had  on  a  red  cap — the  rest  gray,  which 
is  really  what  is  worn  now,  but  thus  far  I  haven't 
been  given  one.  If  you  notice  the  shoes  we  wear 
you  will  see  they  are  pretty  large  and  not  very 
shapely  but  they  are  what  are  worn  by  the  French 


EDMOND  GENET  85 

troops  and  really  are  fine  for  marching — especially 
in  the  mud  of  this  country  which  is  very  slippery. 
They  are  hob-nailed  and  therefore  rather  tiresome 
for  walking  on  pavements  and  streets  as  we  found 
in  Paris.  I  can  still  wear  a  5J^  shoe  though  for  I 
tried  the  pair  I  have  in  the  suitcase  in  Paris. 

MY  DEAR  ROD., 

My  ear  is  O.  K.  now  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say. 
Whatever  was  the  matter  with  it  is  all  over.  I 
can't  imagine  what  made  it  so  deafened  for  such  a 
long  time. 

Just  after  I  joined  the  2nd  de  marche  I  looked 
around  for  two  of  my  old  friends  who  were  with  me 
at  La  Valbonne.  I  found  that  they  had  both  been 
killed  in  an  attack  at  Arras  on  June  16th.  One  was 
a  young  fellow  from  near  Buffalo,  Hall  by  name,  and 
the  other  an  older  man — a  Greek,  naturalized  for 
some  years  as  an  American  and  a  fine  man  too. 
He  had  left  $250  a  month  salary  in  the  States  (a 
railroad  engineer  or  something  like  that)  to  come 
over  here  and  he  lost  his  life  in  the  very  first  attack 
he  made.  I  had  received  a  letter  from  him  only  a 
week  or  so  before  that  date.  Believe  me  it  cut  me 
up  a  lot  to  hear  he  had  gone.  Little  chance  one 
has  to  last  when  charging  in  the  face  of  the  rapid- 
fire  guns  used  in  this  conflict.  They  can  cut  a 
regiment  down  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell 
about  it,  believe  me.  One  can  easier  run  between 
drops  of  rain  than  between  the  bullets  of  one  of 
those  infernal  machines.  For  my  part  I'd  rather 


86  WAR  LETTERS 

try  the  rain-drops.  There  isn't  a  bang-bang-gang 
to  the  blamed  things.  It's  just  a  continuous  sound 
like  the  propeller  of  an  aeroplane  when  it's  going 
around  at  70  per. 

An  attack  only  lasts  a  bare  ten  minutes  (usually 
less)  in  this  war.  Either  the  attacking  party  gets 
across  in  that  time  and  drives  the  enemy  from  their 
trenches  or  else  is  cut  down  by  the  mitrailleuses 
before  it  can  cover  the  few  hundred  yards  between 
the  lines.  The  latter  is  a  pretty  likely  case. 

The  2nd  of  August  will  mark  the  end  of  the  1st 
year  of  this  Hell-on-Earth.  How  many  more 
there  will  be  remains  to  be  seen.  Let  us  hope  and 
pray  there  won't  be  many.  All  hands,  I  believe, 
would  gladly  call  quits  were  such  possible.  Such 
evidently  isn't  possible  from  present  outlooks. 
This  must  be  all  for  the  present. 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  Stranger, 

Bat.  B,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

July  25th,  1915. 

DEAR  JEANETTE, 

The  last  I  sent  you  was  a  postal  (mean  of  me 
wasn't  it?-)  which  was  some  time  toward  the  end 
of  June.  Since  then  I  have  changed  from  the  3rd 
to  the  2nd  de  marche  as  you  may  notice  in  the 
address  I've  given.  The  3rd  is  no  longer  in  exist- 
ence as  there  were  too  few  left  in  both  divisions  to  do 
anything  but  unite  them  into  one  body.  The  year's 
fighting  sure  took  its  toll  of  the  Legion  fitranger. 

I  was  in  Paris  from  the  6th  to  the  9th  of  this 


EDMOND  GENET  87 

month  with  the  other  Americans  of  the  regiment. 
Ten  of  us  were  photographed  for  the  Press  and  a 
copy  is  being  given  to  each  of  us.  Mine  is  being 
sent  to  my  Mother  and  if  she  sends  it  on  to  Rivers 
to  have  a  look  at  perhaps  he  may  be  induced  by  a 
request  to  give  you  a  look  also.  We  carried  no 
weapons  at  the  time  so  don't  be  frightened. 

According  to  the  latest  despatches  this  human 
conflict  will  be  over  some  time  in  or  about  October, 
1931,  so  be  looking  for  me  soon.  The  lead  is  still  in 
the  ground  yet  that  will  send  my  soul  into  perdition, 
but  all  the  same,  Jeanette,  I'm  not  taking  any  of 
those  things  people  call  chances — I  carry  an  um- 
brella. That,  by  the  way,  has  absolutely  nothing 
to  do  with  me  burning  my  tongue  with  the  coffee 
this  morning.  That  was  an  unlooked-for  taste  of 
heat.  There !  I  do  rave,  don't  I  ?  Where  there's 
a  beach  there  is  sand  but  I  haven't  the  grit  to  go  on 
this  way. 

These  last  two  weeks  I've  been  making  more  war 
on  some  particular  and  delicious  cherry-trees  than 
I  have  on  the  Germans.  I  have,  thus  far,  come  out 
of  the  fray  more  fortunately  than  have  numerous 
of  my  fellow  fighters. 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  Etranger, 

Bat.  B,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

July  31st,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Received  your  letter.  We  are  still  in  the  same 
position  as  we  were  when  I  wrote  last — Sunday, 


88  WAR  LETTERS 

25th,  and  no  news  yet  about  any  change.  Dave 
and  I  are  getting  anxious  to  get  into  the  line  again. 
These  "off  periods"  are  somewhat  monotonous. 

As  no  letters  to  those  engaged  in  the  conflict  are 
opened  at  all  there  is  absolutely  no  chance  of  any 
such  incoming  letter  being  censored.  Only  our 
letters  to  outside  friends,  etc.,  are  examined.  It 
really  is  not  necessary  to  be  entirely  neutral  if  you 
have  any  cause  not  to  be.  Your  letters  aren't 
censored  nor  are  any  others  which  come  to  me. 

You  know  by  this  time  that  I  have  written  to 
Chaplain  Pearce  and  I  am  anxiously  awaiting  his 
reply  which  I  hope  sincerely  will  clear  up  the  un- 
settled condition  of  my  mind  concerning  the  Georgia. 
I  am  very  happy  to  say,  dear  Mother,  that  what- 
soever has  been  the  cause  of  my  being  let  free  and 
clear  (if  such  is  the  case)  is  not  on  account  of  any 
trouble  (to  my  utmost  knowledge)  between  any  of 
those  on  board  and  me.  That  is  the  cause  Rivers 
also  believes  in  but  I  assure  you  both  that  as  far 
as  my  knowledge  is  concerned  you  are  entirely 
wrong.  It  is  just  as  much  a  mystery  to  me  as  it  is 
to  you.  I  only  hope  the  Chaplain  will  be  able  to 
find  out  exactly  about  it. 

Last  evening  Dave  and  I,  on  our  usual  evening 
stroll,  contrived  to  find  some  raspberries  and  we 
sure  were  successful.  They  were  about  the  most 
delicious  I  have  ever  eaten — growing  wild  up  on 
top  of  the  surrounding  hills  here.  We've  found 
huckleberries  in  abundance  too.  Many  of  the 
raspberries  were  an  inch  long — big  and  just  ripe. 


EDMOND  GENET  89 

The  cherries  by  now  are  pretty  well  thinned  out. 
They  sure  were  fine  while  they  lasted  and  I  didn't 
get  sick  from  them  either. 

I  trust  that  photograph  has  by  this  time  reached 
you  safe  and  unbroken.  It's  time  it  did. 

We  are  now  in  the  most  famous  brigade  of  France 
—the  Moroccan  Brigade  or  Division  of  the  7th 
Army.  It  is  really  the  Division  in  which  the 
Legion  fitranger  belongs.  Before  we  were  united 
with  the  2nd  de  marche  we  were  a  part  of  the  2nd 
Army. 

I  suppose  Rivers  is  now  on  his  way  down  the 
Atlantic  coast  to  Charleston,  S.  C.,  where  he  will 
see  Rod.  What  battleship  is  he  making  the  trip 
with  this  year?  One  of  the  1st  Division  ships  I 
presume — from  New  York.  It's  too  bad  none  of 
the  Fleet  got  around  to  the  Exposition. 

I'll  let  you  know  when  I  hear  from  Chaplain 
Pearce  what  he  can  tell  me  about  my  standing,  etc. 
I  sure  am  mighty  anxiously  waiting  for  his  reply. 

Lots  of  love  to  you,  dear  little  Mother.  It's  best 
to  hope  for  the  best — that  I  will  come  back  to  you 
all  some  day — when  this  is  all  over.  God  grant 
me  success  is  all  I  can  pray  for — for  myself. 

Enclosed  is  some  real  "Heather"  which  I  picked 
to-day  on  the  hillside.  Some  is  white  and  some 
purple. 

September  19,  1915. 

I  am  far,  far  from  where  I  last  wrote — the  place 
we  were  in  for  almost  two  months.  Of  course  I 


90  WAR  LETTERS 

cannot  say  where  I  am  but  I  am  at  the  front  again 
although  not  yet  actually  in  the  first  line.  Long 
before  this  will  reach  you  I'll  probably  be  in  the 
latter. 

Both  your  letters  (Aug.  23  and  30)  reached  me 
a  while  ago.  I  would  have  written  much  sooner 
but  was  too  busy  with  the  changes,  etc.  The  postal 
secteur  is  the  same — I  believe  always  will  be  with 
the  regiment  anyway  no  matter  where  we  happen  to 
be  located. 

So  far  there  has  been  nothing  from  Chaplain 
Pearce  but  I'm  still  hoping  for  a  letter  soon.  What 
a  shame  that  the  good  standing  of  the  Naval  Acad- 
emy has  been  knocked  down  a  few  notches.  It 
makes  it  so  much  worse,  too,  when  certain  Con- 
gressmen cannot  have  backbone  enough  to  stand 
by  the  good  reputation  of  the  institution  also, 
instead  of  thinking  first  of  their  pockets,  etc., 
but  such  is  the  way  of  many  of  our  statesmen- 
grafters. 

If  you  ever  read  anything  in  the  newspaper  war 
news  concerning  the  Moroccan  Division  of  the 
Seventh  Army  containing  the  Arab  troops,  the 
Zuaves,  and  the  "Legion,"  you  can  guess  pretty 
correctly  that  I  was  in  it.  It  might  be  an  attack 
or  a  big  review  or  some  such  an  event. 

There  are  worse  things  than  shells  with  fire, 
Mother.  I'm  not  looking  forward  with  a  great 
deal  of  hope  to  meeting  any  of  these  sort  of  war 
implements  but  I  reckon  I'll  have  my  full  share  be- 
fore this  is  over.  The  Allies'  troops  are  frightful- 


EDMOND  GENET  91 

looking  creatures  when  they  make  a  charge  for  the 
German  lines, — respirators  covering  the  mouth 
and  nose,  goggles  over  the  eyes,  grease  covering  the 
rest  of  the  face  and  the  hands  and  arms  to  prevent 
burning  from  petrol,  etc.,  sometimes  metal  casques 
over  the  top  of  the  head  and  a  few  other  hideous 
preventatives.  Sometime  I'd  like  to  get  a  picture 
of  myself  fixed  up  that  way.  We  look  more  like  the 
fiends  of  Satan  himself  than  human  men.  I  wonder 
the  Germans  don't  often  flee  from  mere  fright  at 
the  sight  of  a  horde  of  such  creatures  charging  at 
them  with  bayonets  fixed  and  shell  bursting  all 
around  them.  What  a  picture  for  later-day  genera- 
tions to  gasp  over — "their  grandfathers  charging  in 
the  war  of  1914-15-16-17,  etc.,  etc."  (Let's  hope 
and  pray  it  will  end  before  1920  anyway.) 

As  it  takes  a  month  or  so  for  us  to  exchange 
letters,  Mother,  I  am  asking  now  that  before  Xmas 
gets  too  near  you  get  me  one  necessary  article.  At 
least  I  want  it  before  Jan.  1st,  if  possible.  You 
know  I  keep  a  diary  and  the  one  I  have  will,  of 
course,  be  completed  Dec.  31st,  so  if  you  will  write 
to  the  people  I  always  buy  one  from  and  get  one 
for  me  for  1916  and  send  it  over  I'll  sure  be  very 
obliged.  Enclose  25  cents  in  stamps  to  Messrs. 
Laird  and  Lee,  Inc.,  1732  Michigan  Avenue,  Chi- 
cago, Illinois,  for  one  of  their  1916  diaries  and  time 
savers  which  they  will  send  postpaid  to  you  and 
then  you  can  mail  it  on  to  me.  I  guess  they  will  be 
able  to  let  you  have  one  by  Nov.  15th  and  possibly 
sooner.  I'd  much  rather  have  their  diary  than  any 


92  WAR  LETTERS 

other  as  I've  always  used  theirs  and  it  is  an  excellent 
one  for  my  use. 

In  the  past  three  days  I've  seen  more  big  auto- 
trucks than  ever  before  in  my  life.  The  French 
use  them  extensively  for  bringing  food  to  the  lines 
and  in  transporting  troops  quickly  where  there 
are  no  railroads.  Coming  out  here  the  last  two 
days  or  rather  nights — for  we  marched  at  night— 
we  were  passed  by  line  after  line  of  auto-trucks— 
hundreds  of  them  running  often  without  lights  one 
after  another — very  close  and  at  high  speed.  The 
way  they  pound  along  the  roads  is  marvellous.  In 
spite  of  the  amount  of  such  heavy  trucking  over 
the  roads  all  over  France — especially  near  the  lines 
— in  the  year  of  the  war  the  roads  are  everywhere 
practically  in  perfect  condition  and  never  require 
much  repairing.  French  roads  are  wonderful, 
Mother.  I've  got  more  praise  to  give  to  the 
Frenchman  for  his  roads  than  for  anything  else. 
Our  state  roads  can't  come  near  to  these  highways 
of  France. 

I'm  seeing  lots  of  aerial  warfare  here  too.  Aero- 
planes are  all  over  and  both  sides  shoot  at  the  other's 
continually.  It  certainly  is  immensely  interesting 
to  watch  them  scout  around  over  the  lines  and  see 
the  bombs  burst  about  them.  I've  counted  as 
many  as  fifty  shells  bursting  around  an  aeroplane 
at  the  same  time — within  two  or  three  minutes — 
and  not  one  gets  near  enough  to  it  to  do  any  harm. 
It  is  seldom  one  is  brought  down,  although  where 
we  were  before  I  saw  two  French  ones  brought  to 


EDMOND  GENET  93 

earth  within  two  days.  One  was  the  famous 
French  aviator  Pegoud. 

While  I  write  here  the  big  guns  are  pounding 
away  incessantly  on  all  sides.  Yesterday  the  can- 
nonading was  terrific  and  as  this  is  early  morning 
perhaps  to-day's  will  be  as  bad.  They  like  to  hit 
it  up  toward  sunset  as  a  general  rule.  They  keep 
going  all  night  though,  off  and  on.  .  .  . 

knows  some  young  French  soldier  over 

here  whom  she  met  last  summer  when  she  was  in 
France.  He  hasn't  been  to  the  front  yet  as  far  as 
I  can  learn  from  her.  He's  in  the  97th  Infantry, 
but  I  should  worry  over  him  !  If  I,  as  an  American 
and  with  real  service  and  real  love  and  what-not 
else,  can't  win  a  true  American  girl,  why,  I'll  rest 
my  bones  over  here.  I'm  not  losing  any  flesh  worry- 
ing about 's  French  soldier  friend.  Some  day 

I  hope  I'll  meet  him. 

From  the  way  things  look  it  will  be  some  time 
ere  I'll  get  my  leave  to  gay  Paris  but  now  that  I'm 
out  at  the  real  front  again  I  want  to  see  some  hard 
fighting  before  I  get  it  anyway.  It  will  be  all  the 
sweeter  for  the  waiting,  won't  it  ? 

I've  been  having  some  painful  trouble  in  acquir- 
ing a  bit  of  wisdom  in  the  last  two  weeks.  In 
other  words,  by  way  of  explanation,  my  wisdom- 
teeth  have  been  coming  up  from  their  hiding  and 
one  was  extremely  painful  for  a  number  of  days. 
"All  is  well  that  ends  well." 


94  WAR  LETTERS 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  fitranger, 

Bat.  B,  4eme  Compagnie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

September  22nd,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

There  isn't  much  spare  time  for  me  to  use  in  let- 
ter-writing now  but  I  am  using  these  few  minutes  to 
send  this — possibly  my  last.  There  is  a  big  fight 
coming,  Mother  dear, — that  is  all  I  dare  to  say  but 
that  little  means  a  lot.  Should  I  get  through  alive 
or  well  enough  to  write  I'll  do  so  the  very  first 
chance  I  get  so  you  won't  be  held  in  suspense  too 
long,  but  should  you  not  hear  from  me  within — say 
two  weeks  after  you  get  this  don't  put  it  down  as 
positive  that  I  am  gone  for  good.  I  might  be  a 
prisoner,  or  too  wounded  to  get  a  word  to  you  or 
something  similar.  "A  bad  penny  usually  turns  up 
sometime." 

As  I  presume  this  will  go  to  Rivers  and  Rodman 
you  will  all  get  my  farewell.  God  grant  it  is  not 
my  last  but  you  may  all  be  mighty  sure  "the  Kid" 
isn't  going  into  the  battle  with  any  "yellow  streak" 
or  "the  white  feather." 

God  bless  you  all,  dear  little  Mother,  and — au 
revoir. 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 

October  llth,  1915. 

DEAR  RIVERS, 

As  you  will  already  know  from  my  recent  letter 
to  Mother  I  have  been  through  a  considerable 


EDMOND   GENET  95 

amount  of  horror  and  real  war  these  past  three 
weeks.  I'm  not  yet  out  of  it  by  any  means  either. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  that  I  would  have  answered 
your  letter  very  much  sooner,  but  as  it  is  there 
hasn't  been  more  than  time  for  me  to  scarcely  think 
with  any  degree  of  adequacy  let  alone  write  letters. 
I'm  still  out  on  the  lines  but  can  get  letters  back 
now  so  will  try  and  get  this  off  this  afternoon.  We 
had  three  days'  repose  back  of  the  lines  about  six 
days  ago  and  so  I  was  able  to  squeeze  in  a  letter  to 
Mother.  Then  I  didn't  think  we  would  get  out 
to  the  line  again  quite  so  soon  after  all  the  misery 
we  had  just  gone  through  with,  but  we  did  all  right 
and  my  lost  sleep  and  energy  is  yet  far  from  being 
made  up.  We  haven't  encountered  quite  the  Hell 
this  last  period  that  we  had  the  first  (which  I 
wrote  to  Mom.  about)  but  we've  had  enough  to 
want  to  get  back  behind  the  lines  again  for  a  good 
rest  and  clean-up. 

My  comrade  Dave  Wheeler  was  wounded  by  a 
ball  in  the  leg  in  the  attack  and  I  have  since  had 
a  letter  from  him  saying  he  was  in  Paris  in  a  hos- 
pital and  I  guess  he  is  pretty  well  off.  His  wound 
I  don't  believe  is  a  very  bad  one.  Three  nights 
ago  another  one  of  my  American  friends  was  put 
back  behind  the  lines  with  a  wound  in  his  knee 
from  a  bit  of  shell.  One  of  the  American  fellows 
lost  his  life  in  the  attack  but  otherwise  the  "U.  S. 
Volunteers"  are  in  fairly  good  shape — only  blamed 
tired  out. 

Mom.   had   a  letter  from   Chaplain  Pearce  in 


96  WAR  LETTERS 

answer  to  the  one  I  wrote  him  and  she  sent  it  to 
me.  There  seems  to  be  nothing  at  all  to  do  but 
just  wait  until  I  can  get  back  and  then,  through 
some  authority,  find  out  exactly  what  my  standing 
is,  etc.  If  it  is  necessary  to  go  to  the  President 
afterward  we  can  figure  out  that  problem  better 
then  than  now.  I  surely  hope  all  is  O.  K.,  dear 
Brother,  but  if  not  perhaps  my  service  over  here  will 
help  a  good  deal  toward  making  things  all  right. 
Let  us  hope  so.  • 

I  certainly  have  been  through  enough  fire  lately 
to  last  and  satisfy  any  one  for  a  lifetime,  but  there's 
lots  more  coming  I  know.  How  I  came  through 
alive  and  unhurt  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  So  many 
of  us  were  cleaned  out  in  the  attack — a  matter  of 
a  brief  ten  minutes.  Oh  it's  Hell-on-earth  all  right, 
Rivers,  and  no  mistake.  Anybody  who  has  the 
least  bit  of  heart  trouble  or  nervous  prostration 
sure  wants  to  keep  out  of  a  modern  war.  It's  no 
place  for  an  invalid. 

I've  become  a  regular  field-rat.  Whenever  we 
get  anywhere  within  range  of  shell-fire  and  there 
isn't  a  trench  already  there  we  immediately  dig  in- 
dividual holes  or  dugouts  to  get  into  for  protection 
from  shells.  That  doesn't  lessen  the  danger  much 
though,  for  it  doesn't  prevent  a  shell  from  landing 
directly  into  such  a  trench  and  many  a  poor  fellow 
has  found  he  has  only  dug  his  own  grave. 

I've,  been  able  to  pick  up  a  few  German  trophies 
from  the  captured  trenches  but  the  question  now  is 
— will  I  be  able  to  get  them  with  my  things  at 


EDMOND   GENET  97 

Paris  ?     I  will  if  I  can  get  my  permission  but  that  is 
decidedly   doubtful.     One    cannot   carry   trophies 
around  very  much  when  he  is  campaigning. 
Ever  your  loving  brother, 

EDMOND. 

P.  S. — All  letters  coming  to  me  from  the  States 
now  are  censored  by  the  military  authorities. 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  fitranger, 

Bat.  B,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

October  22nd,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Surely  was  I  glad  to  get  yours  of  Sept.  27th. 
In  the  same  mail  was  one  from  Chaplain  Pearce 
with  an  enclosed  letter  which  he  wrote  in  July  and 
which  was  sent  back  on  account  of  the  address  be- 
ing wrong.  In  his  last  he  says,  "A  few  days  ago 
I  had  a  talk  with  Comd'r  Littlefield  of  the  Georgia 
in  your  behalf  but  could  get  little  information  from 
him  as  to  your  status.  My  advice  to  you  would 
be  to  get  your  mother  to  write  to  the  Sec.  of  Navy 
and  not  you  yourself  as  I  stated  in  my  previous 
letter.  Still  she  might  see  the  Congressman  in 
her  district  to  see  about  getting  matters  straightened 
out.  Many  American  boys  have  been  brought 
back  to  the  U.  S.  But  this  may  have  been  at  the 
request  of  parents.  I  do  not  know  whether  this 
would  happen  in  your  case  or  not  should  the  De- 
partment hear  of  your  whereabouts.  And  however 
I  presume  they  do,  as  all  on  your  ship  know." 


98  WAR  LETTERS 

In  his  former  letter  he  speaks  of  trusting  that  my 
status  is  O.  K.  and  that  I  may  be  able  to  return  to 
the  U.  S.  some  time  without  being  punished. 

Repose  began  yesterday  and  we  are  far  from  the 
scenes  of  our  late  fighting.  Paris  isn't  so  far  away 
from  our  present  location  and  possibly  we  may  get 
our  leaves  to  there  soon.  I  sure  hope  so  anyway  as 
I  want  to  see  Dave  Wheeler  while  he  is  there,  for  as 
soon  as  he  is  well  enough  he  will  probably  get  re- 
formed [invalided]  (he  very  likely  will  be  unable  to 
continue  as  a  soldier  as  his  leg  will  never  be  strong 
enough  for  heavy  marching)  and  then  he  and  Mrs. 
Wheeler  will  beat  it  back  to  their  home  in  Buffalo. 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  Etranger, 

Bat.  B,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

October  22nd,  1915. 

DEAR  STAR, 

It  was  somewhere  back  in  early  September  when 
I  received  your  two  letters,  Aug.  12th  and  25th  and 
here  am  I  just  endeavoring  to  scrawl  a  reply.  Well, 
considering  what  I  have  been  through  in  the  last 
month's  time  perhaps  you  will  overlook  my  gross 
negligence.  Possibly  you  will  have  heard  from 
Rivers  something  about  the  fighting  I  have  gone 
through  as  I  wrote  to  him  a  week  or  so  ago  just 
after  the  worst  had  passed  to  bygone  days.  There 
was  a  great  deal  of  advanced  fighting  done  by  the 
French  forces  along  the  lines  during  this  past 
month  and  I  was  in  a  good  deal  of  the  horrors. 
It  was  only  yesterday  when  we  finally  began  a 


EDMOND   GENET  99 

repose  which  we  all  hail  with  joy  because  we  surely 
need  it.  A  more  worn-out  lot  of  troops  are,  I 
guess,  hard  to  find.  I  say  a  lot  but,  to  tell  the 
truth,  there  aren't  a  very  great  many  of  us  left  to 
tell  the  tales  in  our  regiment.  I  am  pretty  much 
at  a  complete  loss  as  to  how  I  managed  to  come 
through  it  all  alive  and  unhurt  for  we  certainly 
have  been  through  a  steady  succession  of  ghastly 
horrors,  attacks,  under  fire  practically  for  a  month 
and  what-not  else.  In  an  attack  we  made  on 
Sept.  28th,  out  of  our  company  of  250  there  are  not 
quite  60  left,  including  the  new  officers  (for  we  lost 
all  our  officers  except  one).  The  rest  were  either 
killed  or  wounded  by  the  murderous  mitrailleuse 
and  shell-fire  which  we  faced.  One  of  my  American 
comrades  who  was  wounded  in  the  leg  by  a  ball  and 
is  now  in  Paris  with  the  American  Ambulance 
getting  over  it,  writes  and  declares  that  I  surely 
must  be  a  "Little  Devil"  and  bullet-proof  to  have 
come  through  that  attack  alive  and  untouched. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  if  he  is  not  pretty  much  in  the 
right.  That  same  night  there  were  but  thirty -two 
of  us  able  to  be  collected  from  two  companies  (500 
men)  who  were  able  to  assist  in  carrying  back  be- 
hind the  lines  some  of  the  badly  wounded. 

On  the  first  day  of  the  actual  fighting,  the  25th, 
I  believe  I  had  the  closest  shave  that  I've  had  yet. 
We  were  advancing  after  the  retreating  Germans 
who  had  been  driven  from  their  intrenchments 
and  they  were  firing  big  shells  into  the  advancing 
ranks.  Our  section  happened  to  get  exposed  to 


100  WAR  LETTERS 

view  on  top  of  a  ridge  and  immediately  they  hurled 
a  huge  210  shell  at  us.  Somehow  we  felt  it  com- 
ing— heard  it  too,  and  we  all  just  dropped  flat  on 
our  stomachs  in  the  soft  mud.  It  was  one  of  those 
instances  when  a  small  fraction  of  a  second  counts 
and  it  counted  that  time  in  my  favor.  The  shell 
sung  its  sweet  love-song  just  over  my  shoulders  and 
cranium  and  if  I  hadn't  gripped  my  fingers  into 
the  mud  I  surely  would  have  been  lifted  into  the 
air  from  the  force  of  the  intake  of  air.  As  it  was 
I  felt  myself  lifted  an  inch  or  so  and  then — crack ! 
The  huge  shell  burst  a  couple  of  yards  behind  me 
and  killed  two  of  my  squad  and  wounded  four  or 
five  others.  Since  that  day  I  love  such  shells  only 
at  a  great,  great  distance — a  mile  or  so,  you  under- 
stand. 

There  are  many  little  bits  of  interesting  things 
to  say  and  describe  about  the  sights  of  a  battle- 
field after  the  battle  and  trenches  which  have  been 
stormed  and  taken,  but  really  it  is  best  that  you 
simply  imagine  such  sights  for  they  are  too  morbid 
and  ghastly  to  write  about.  You'd  have  horrible 
nightmares  for  nights  and  nights  after. 

Besides  all  the  strain  of  being  continually  under 
fire  we  were  soaked  by  rain  almost  all  the  time  and 
slept  in  mud  and  water  every  night.  You  can  im- 
agine how  we  felt  snd  looked  after  ten  or  twelve 
days  of  such  life. 

How  is  life  in  Ossining  now? — settling  down  for 
the  winter,  I  presume.  It  sure  is  getting  chilly 
over  here  now.  This  time  of  the  year  France  is 


EDMOND  GENET  101 

very  rainy  and  damp  too,  which  only  adds  to  the 
misery  of  the  cold.  Lord,  before  we  realize  it 
Christmas  will  be  here !  I've  been  here  over  nine 
months  already. 

Best  wishes  to  you  and  all  the  folks,  Jeanette,  and 
do  write  whenever  you  can.  Believe  me,  letters 
are  a  blessing  to  me. 

Ever  sincerely, 

EDMOND. 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     ler  fitranger,  Cie.  C  4. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

October  28th,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Dave  Wheeler,  in  a  letter  he  wrote  to  me  from 
Paris  which  came  yesterday,  brought  to  my  notice 
an  article  which  appeared  in  the  Evening  Sun,  Oct. 
5th.  I  write  its  contents: 

"American  Soldiers  in  France. 

"The  account  between  America  and  France, 
opened  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution  that  gave  us 
liberty,  is  being  liquidated.  In  this  war  young 
Americans  with  the  spirit  of  Lafayette  have  thrown 
their  lives  and  their  fortunes  into  the  balance  and 
as  this  morning's  despatches  indicate  a  number  of 
them  have  been  killed  fighting  in  the  French  army. 

"It  is  by  a  curious  chance  that  among  the  names 
appears  that  of  Edmond  C.  C.  Genet  of  New  York. 
Genet  was  the  name  of  the  Frenchman  who  came 
here  over  a  century  ago  to  plead  that  the  United 
States  take  sides  in  the  French  war  with  England. 


102  WAR  LETTERS 

By  the  wisdom  of  Washington  that  plea  was  dis- 
regarded. The  young  nation  would  have  en- 
dangered its  own  life  without  being  able  to  render 
any  very  substantial  service  to  France.  It  was 
ours  rather  to  demonstrate  the  possibility  of  realiz- 
ing the  world's  ancient  dream  of  a  government  of 
the  people,  by  the  people,  for  the  people. 

"But  standing  apart  from  entangling  alliances, 
America  has  done  better  service,  by  setting  an  ex- 
ample and  at  times,  as  in  the  case  of  China,  through 
mediation.  And  now  her  sons,  fighting  in  the  For- 
eign Legion,  are  paying  the  actual  debt,  man  for 
man,  incurred  in  the  Revolution.  Our  contribu- 
tions to  hospital  service  must  also  be  counted  as  in 
some  sense  a  reimbursement  for  the  investment 
made  so  long  ago  by  France  in  American  good- will." 

A  friend  of  Dave  who  knows  of  me  through  him 
sent  him  that  article  and  he  sent  it  to  me.  I  hope 
you  or  Rivers  or  any  of  my  relations  or  friends  failed 
to  see  it  in  the  paper  or  the  article  which  came  out 
the  following  day  which  Dave  tells  me  about. 
This  one  I  wrote  above  puts  me  down  as  being 
killed.  The  other  one,  printed  the  following  day, 
Dave  writes,  had  all  the  Americans  killed  but  one. 
They  had  it  that  I,  in  the  attack  we  made,  when  all 
the  rest  were  slain,  hid  in  a  hole  made  by  a  bursted 
shell  until  the  Tirailleurs  (the  Arab  troops)  charged. 
Then  I  up  and  charged  with  them  killing,  as  Dave 
says  they  put  in  the  article,  about  10,000  Germans. 
I'd  sure  enjoy  charging,  with  bayonet  fixed,  the 
blamed  reporters  who  fixed  up  those  articles  out  of 


"Citizen"  Genet. 
First  Minister  from  the  French  Republic  to  the  United  States  in  1793. 


EDMOND  GENET  103 

their  senseless  craniums.  They  deserve  the  extreme 
pleasure  of  taking  part  in  one  of  those  attacks.  Pos- 
sibly their  minds  would  be  more  calm  and  sedate 
thereafter. 

I  can  well  imagine  your  feelings  if  you  read  such 
an  article  as  that  first  (as  this  morning's  despatches 
indicate,  etc.,  and  my  name  right  out — the  only  one 
mentioned  in  the  article — as  being  one  of  those  re- 
ported killed) .  Curse  all  newspaper  reporters  ! 

We're  in  repose  now  and  have  been  ever  since 
the  middle  of  last  week.  I'm  pretty  well  rested 
now  and  am  mighty  anxious  to  get  that  6-day  leave 
to  Paris.  Six  days'  vacation  there  would  put  me  in 
fine  shape  and  feelings  I  know,  but  it's  very  doubt- 
ful if  such  is  obtainable. 

Joseph  Lydon,  the  young  fellow  from  Mass,  of 
whom  I  spoke  in  one  of  my  last  letters  as  having 
been  wounded,  is  out  of  the  war  for  good.  He  had 
his  right  leg  amputated  about  3  inches  below  the 
knee  and  is  in  a  French  hospital.  When  he  gets 
well  enough  he'll  be  reformed  [invalided]  and  I  sup- 
pose can  get  some  sort  of  a  pension  from  the  French 
Government  for  the  loss  of  half  his  leg.  That's 
mighty  poor  recompense  for  one's  leg  though,  and, 
poor  fellow,  I  sure  do  pity  him  and  the  future  he  has 
before  him  of  having  to  hobble  around  with  crutches 
for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Dave  is  getting  along  pretty 
well  but  says  his  leg  is  still  painful  and  it  will  be 
six  or  more  months  before  he  will  be  well  enough 
for  an  active  life. 

If,  when  they  do  sail,  which  will  be  probably 


104  WAR  LETTERS 

some  time  yet,  I  know  you  will  be  around  N.  Y.  I'd 
like  you  to  meet  them  there  and  see  for  yourself 
what  two  fine  friends  I've  made  over  here  and  in- 
cidentally thank  them  for  all  their  good  friendship 
to  me. 

If,  If,  last  year  on  Oct.  26th,  when  I  was  in 
Ossining  after  being  with  you  on  the  25th  at  Oaks, 
Pa.,  etc.,  on  my  five-day  furlough  from  the  Georgia 
(you  remember,  don't  you  ?)  some  one  had  told  me 
that  exactly  one  year  later  I  would  be  passing  in 
review  before  President  Poincare,  King  George  V. 
of  England,  the  two  Generals-in-Chief  of  France 
and  England — Joffre  and  French — and  many  other 
high  officials,  I  surely  would  have  asked  what  that 
particular  individual  had  drank  last,  but  such  has 
proved  to  be  the  truth.  Our  entire  Brigade  and 
Division  Marocaine  was  reviewed  by  those  high 
dignitaries  on  Oct.  26th,  the  most  beautiful  day  we 
have  had  for  two  weeks,  amid  the  martial  strains  of 
"God  Save  the  King"  and  the  "Marseillaise,"  and 
when  we  marched  past  the  reviewing  group  I  had 
the  fine  fortune  to  be  on  the  very  inside  rank — 
nearest  to  them  so  that  I  had  an  unobstructed  and 
very  close  view  as  I  marched  by.  The  President 
and  King  stood  in  front,  Poincare  in  his  usual 
black  frock  and  black  cloth  cap,  the  King  in  Khaki. 
Behind  stood  "Grand-pop"  Joffre  and  Gen'l 
French  and  lined  up  behind  was  a  long  line  of 
notable  generals  and  dignitaries. 

Once  during  the  summer  we  were  reviewed  near 
Belfort  by  President  Poincare  and  Gen'l  Joffre. 


EDMOND  GENET  105 

That  was  just  before  we  left  for  the  front  for  the 
late  fighting.  This  was  a  far  bigger  and  grander 
review  though  and  King  George  of  the  British 
Empire  was  there.  Believe  me  I  held  my  chin  up 
and  kept  my  eyes  open.  Directly  after  we  all  lined 
up  along  the  road  over  which  the  reviewing  party 
returned  in  their  autos  and  presented  arms  as  they 
passed.  I  was  again  in  the  front  rank.  Our  colors, 
presented  to  us  by  President  Poincare  only  in  the 
summer  at  that  other  review  I  spoke  of,  were  this 
time  presented  with  the  Croix  de  Guerre  (the  3rd 
medal  of  France)  for  our  bravery  in  the  late  fight- 
ing. 

Every  letter  I  get  now  from  America  has  been 
opened  by  the  military  authorities  and  then  resealed 
with  their  sealing  paper. 

2e  Regiment  de  marche.     Premier  fitranger, 
Cie.  B  4.     Secteur  postal  109,  France. 
October  30th,  1915. 

After  a  long  wait  for  word  from  you  I  have  to- 
day at  last  received  yours  of  October  12th.  What 
an  unnecessary  lot  you  all  have  passed  through, 
say  I, — all  because  a  few  blamed  reporters  had  to 
get  entirely  too  strong  with  their  remarks  and  des- 
patches and  everything  else.  Oh  I'd  like  to  put  my 
hands  on  them,  believe  me,  they'd  begin  to  realize 
that  Genet's  descendant,  etc.,  etc.,  was  far,  far  from 
being  killed  or  missing  and  knocked  unconscious  by 
any  gas  bomb.  Gas  bomb  !  A  fine  story,  indeed  ! 
Why  there  was  only  one  young  American  killed  in 


106  WAR  LETTERS 

the  1st  regiment  (I  don't  know  anything  about  the 
2eme  Etranger — perhaps  a  number  of  the  Americans 
in  it  were  killed).  Fames  worth  of  New  York  was 
the  one  killed  of  the  1st.  Wheeler  was  the  only  one 
wounded  (of  the  Americans,  I  mean)  in  the  1st.  It 
sure  does  rile  me  when  I  realize  all  the  worry  and 
anxiety  you,  dear  Mother,  had  to  go  through  for 
nothing.  There  was  even  some  article  about  me 
and  some  narrow  escape  I  had  from  death,  etc.,  etc., 
in  one  of  Baltimore's  papers  for  I  had  a  letter  yester- 
day, a  long  nice  one,  from  Mrs.  Lloyd.  She  didn't 
tell  much  about  it  but  spoke  of  reading  about  the 
very  narrow  escape  and  honors,  etc.  Ossining,  I 
take  it,  had  its  papers  cluttered  too,  as  one  of  my 
girl  friends  there  wrote  me  and  asked  how  badly 
I  was  wounded  and  whether  I  was  in  a  hospital,  etc. 
I  suppose  I'll  be  getting  letters  for  the  next  month 
with  such  news — all  resulting  from  those  (never 
mind  what  I  call  them)  reporters.  It  seems  to  me 
they  might  give  me  a  sort  of  royalty  for  being  such 
an  easy  write-up  for  their  spongy  domes  to  enlarge 
upon.  Suppose  you  had  had  heart  trouble  and  died 
from  the  shock  of  seeing  my  name  among  the  killed 
or  missing !  Well,  let  that  instance  be  a  good  exam- 
ple, Mother,  in  case  others  follow.  Dont  believe 
me  dead  until  you  hear  OFFICIALLY  and  finally 
from  the  French  military  authorities  and  even 
then  there  might  be  a  chance  that  I  be  still  alive — 
a  prisoner  or  something  else.  Newspapers  are  never 
going  to  make  sure  of  facts.  They  get  first  reports 
and  mere  rumors  and  those  are  all  they  ever  care 


EDMOND  GENET  107 

to  get.  The  story  is  easy  to  put  out  afterward.  An- 
other reminder — don't  get  rattled  over  my  address. 
It's  always  the  same  whether  I've  been  in  a  fight, 
etc.,  or  not, — until  I  write  a  different  one  to  you. 
If  I'm  wounded  and  not  with  the  regiment  but  in  a 
hospital  the  letters  coming  for  me  to  the  regiment 
are  remailed  from  there  to  me  and  as  soon  as  I 
get  settled  in  a  hospital  I  can  send  you  all  my  new 
address.  It's  a  wonder  this  last  letter  of  yours  got 
to  me  at  all.  You  had  absolutely  no  postal  secteur 
number  on  it  at  all  and  for  the  past  four  or  five 
months  you've  been  sending  your  letters  to  109. 
Why  didn't  you  use  that  ? 

Surely  am  I  grateful  to  all  the  many  thoughtful 
relations  and  friends  whom  you  say  wrote  to  you  in 
your  hour  of  sorrow  and  suspense  and  then  again 
in  your  later  time  of  gladness.  God  bless  them  all 
— you  dear  loving  Mother,  above  them  all — as  He 
has  blessed  me  and  watch  over  you  all  as  He  has 
watched  over  me.  With  my  whole  heart  and  soul 
I  thank  Him  for  his  guidance.  Do  you  remember 
that  hymn  you  sent  to  me — "O  Jesus,  I  have  prom- 
ised, etc." — where  it  reads  "I  shall  not  fear  the  bat- 
tle if  Thou  art  by  my  side?"  I  thought  of  it  as 
I  was  charging  through  the  hail  of  bullets  and  shell 
in  the  attack  on  Sept.  28th  and  afterward — that 
night  when  it  was  all  over — that  wonderful  fact 
came  home  to  me — that  surely  He  must  know  of 
my  utter  faith  in  His  guidance  and  have  watched 
over  me  that  day  and  all  the  days  of  horror  that 
came  before  and  followed  that  day.  Oh  Mother 


108  WAR  LETTERS 

dear,  what  better  teacher  is  there  than  experience — 
for  one  to  believe  in  God  as  well  as  to  learn  the  ordi- 
nary lessons  of  life? 

Dear  old  Dave  Wheeler — how  glad  I  was  yester- 
day when  I  learned  that  he  was  to  receive  the  Croix 
de  Guerre  for  his  brave  stand  on  the  28th. 

I  expect  to  get  my  longed-for  leave  to  Paris  this 
next  week  if  all  goes  well.  I  sure  hope  I  get  it  for 
I  surely  have  waited  and  wished  for  it  long  enough 
— ever  since  early  in  the  summer. 

And  you,  dear  little  Mother?  I'd  like  to  reach 
my  arms  across  the  Atlantic  and  give  you  a  big,  big 
hug.  You've  had  entirely  too  much  worry  all  for 
nothing  and  it's  one  mighty  big  shame.  Misery  to 
all  reporters  and  never  believe  newspaper  articles 
and  their  "official  despatches."  "A  bad  penny  al- 
ways turns  up." 

Ever  your  loving  son, 

EDMOND, 

Who's  very  much  alive  and  ready  for 
many  more  big  fights.  May  God  guide 
me  through  them  all  and  back  to  you. 

Hotel  de  Moscou, 

10  Cite  Bergere,  Paris. 

Le  6  novembre,  1915. 

It  took  almost  all  of  yesterday,  on  account  of  the 
slowness  of  the  military  trains,  to  get  here  but  I 
finally  did  and  reached  the  hotel  about  6  o'clock, 
finding  a  mighty  kind  and  hospitable  welcome  from 
the  proprietor,  Mr.  Truchet  and  more  than  that 


EDMOND   GENET  109 

from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guerquin  who  immediately  took 
me  out  to  dinner  with  them.  What  cheer  such 
good  friends  are  to  one  in  a  foreign  city  can  only 
be  discovered  by  the  actual  experience. 

It  is  not  yet  nine  o'clock  (A.  M.)  and  I  am  waiting 
to  go  to  the  bank  at  that  hour  to  get  my  draft 
cashed.  I've  already  been  out  for  a  walk  on  the 
boulevard  and  had  coffee  and  rolls  in  one  of  the 
many  pleasing  little  cafes  along  the  way.  After 
the  bank  satisfies  my  desires  I  am  going  to  make 
speed  for  the  American  Ambulance  to  see  Dave 
Wheeler  with  some  fresh  fruit  if  I  can  find  any  on 
the  way. 

Yes,  I  did  know  that  big  advance  was  coming 
about  a  week  previous  to  it  so  that's  why  I  wrote 
the  letter  of  Sept.  19th  to  prepare  your  mind  for 
whatever  might  happen  but  I  sure  didn't  think 
false  reports  would  supersede  real  facts  as  they  did. 
As  I  said  in  my  last  letter — DON'T  take  any  stock 
in  newspaper  talk  again.  Wait  for  the  facts — from 
headquarters  always,  for  they'll  come  sooner  or 
later  if  there  are  any  to  come. 

I'm  mighty  glad  you  find  the  new  work  so  pleas- 
ant, dear  Mother  mine,  but  please,  please  take  it 
easy. 

Don't,  of  course,  send  letters  here  in  reply  to  this 
but  to  the  Regiment  as  usual  as  I'll  be  back  by  next 
Friday.  I  go  back  that  morning.  That  gives  me 
7  nights  and  6  days  here  which  is  going  to  be  fine 
and  mighty  enjoyable. 

On  Sunday  (to-morrow)  I  intend  to  go  to  ser- 


110  WAR  LETTERS 

vice  and  Holy  Communion  at  the  American  Church 
of  the  Holy  Trinity  at  23  rue  d'Alma.  I'm  cer- 
tainly glad  I'll  have  a  Sunday  here  in  Paris  and  be 
able  to  take  Communion. 

Au  revoir  pour  le  present,  chere  Mere, 

EDMOND. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

November  22nd,  1915. 

DEAR  BILL, 

About  the  middle  of  October  we  left  the  late 
scenes  of  operations  at  Champagne  where  we  had, 
as  you  know,  such  a  strenuous  and  hard  month  of 
steady  fighting.  We  left — a  tired  and  worn-out 
Corps  of  troops — and  mighty  glad  to  at  last  get 
prospects  of  a  prolonged  repose.  Ever  since  then 
we've  had  it  almost  to  perfection  in  a  very  at- 
tractive village  not  a  great  ways  to  the  northward 
of  Paris. 

October  26th  saw  our  entire  army  corps,  the  Divi- 
sion Marocaine,  gathered  for  a  grand  big  review  by 
President  Poincare,  King  George  of  Gt.  Britain, 
General  Joffre, — the  grand-pere  of  the  armees 
Frangaises — and  various  other  high  dignitaries;  also 
the  Prince  of  Wales.  That  sure  was  some  vast 
review.  I  saw  it  in  motion  pictures  last  evening 
and  was  considerably  thrilled  by  the  vastness  of 
that  army  in  which  I  was  a  participant  on  October 
26th.  When  we  were  passing  in  review  past  the 
President  and  the  King  I  had  the  fine  fortune  to 


EDMOND  GENET  111 

be  on  the  very  inside  file  so  that  my  view  of  them 
was  unobstructed.  Our  regimental  colors  received 
the  Croix  de  Guerre  that  day  for  our  bravery  in  the 
fighting  at  Champagne.  It  certainly  was  inspiring 
to  hear  the  bands  playing  "God  save  the  King" 
and  the  "Marseillaise"  and  to  see  so  many  thou- 
sands of  bayonets  flashing  in  the  sunlight  that  it 
looked  like  a  vast  sea  of  silver  points. 

On  November  5th  I  got  off  to  Paris  for  six  days 
leave  and  I  sure  did  have  six  days  of  unbounded 
pleasure.  They  passed  all  too  quickly,  you  may  be 
sure.  It  was  so  good  to  get  into  Paris  again  after 
all  that  horror  and  ghastliness  at  the  front.  The 
few  friends  I  have  there  did  everything  possible 
to  give  me  a  fine  time  and,  believe  me,  Bill,  they 
succeeded  beyond  measure.  Dinners,  the  theatre, 
sight-seeing,  movies  and  everything, — all  were  a 
part  of  those  six  days.  Then  came  the  12th  and  I 
had  to  take  a  sad  and  tearful  farewell  of  such  joys 
and  board  le  chemin  de  fer  pour  le  regiment. 

Your  fine  letter  of  Oct.  25th  came  on  the  13th  and 
I  surely  was  delighted  to  hear  from  you,  old  Chum. 

You  all  had  a  very  unnecessary  amount  of  anxiety 
over  those  newspaper  accounts  of  me  because  they 
were  utterly  and  absolutely  unfounded — the  mere 
supposition  of  a  few  brainless  reporters  who  thought 
we  Americans  were  good,  handy,  exciting  material 
on  which  to  build  a  nice  dime-novel  story.  I'd 
like  to  wring  their  blamed  necks  for  they  had  poor 
Mother  and  Rivers  and  Rodman  and  all  my  rela- 
tives and  friends  nearly  wearing  mourning.  Motto — 


112  WAR  LETTERS 

DON'T    believe    newspaper    accounts.     99%    are 
fictitious  and  the  other  1%  is  misprint. 


Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

November  23rd,  1915. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

I  have  just  sent  you  a  post-card  photograph  of 
myself  I  had  taken  while  in  Paris.  It's  not  a  very 
good  picture  but  one  can  scarcely  expect  the  very 
best  results  when  only  paying  2  francs  50  for  a  half 
dozen  postal  photos. 

Of  course  you  have  long  since  received  the  letters 
I  wrote  during  the  time  we  were  around  Cham- 
pagne and  so  know  something  of  my  experiences 
there  during  the  bloody  operations.  Last  evening 
there  were  motion  pictures  shown  to  us  here  in  the 
village  and  among  them  was  a  film  showing  the 
scenes  at  Champagne  just  following  the  attack 
and  the  20,000  prisoners  taken  during  those  days. 
It  certainly  was  a  treat  to  me  to  see  it  all — through 
a  film.  (I  saw  all  I  wished  to  see  in  the  reality 
while  I  was  there — a  suffering  participant.) 

Although  I  saw  many,  many  of  the  prisoners  be- 
ing brought  in  when  we  were  there  I  never  really 
saw  them  all  together  (as  the  picture  last  evening 
showed)  enclosed  in  a  barb- wire  enclosure — dirty, 
bloody,  most  of  them  wounded,  tired, — friendless, 
and  I  could  not  help  realize  their  pitiable  misery. 
Many  of  them,  though,  looked  unblamably  happy. 


EDMOND  GENET  113 

They  were  getting  out  and  away  from  the  horrors 
for  the  rest  of  the  war. 

On  Sept.  25th  I  remember  we  passed  in  our  own 
trenches,  just  following  the  attack  made  on  the 
German  lines  in  the  morning,  a  lot  of  the  wounded 
prisoners  and  they  were  a  sight  to  give  most  any- 
one a  heart-throb.  Some  were  covered  with  blood 
from  big  gashes  or  bayonet  wounds.  Most  of 
them  were  terrible  young  too — boys  of  16  and  17 
years.  I  saw  several  fellows  who  had  their  arms 
around  some  comrade's  neck — worn  out,  weak  and 
perhaps  half  heart-broken.  I  can  imagine  my  feel- 
ings if  I  were  in  their  place. 

Another  film  shown  was  of  the  King  of  England's 
and  the  Prince  of  Wales's  late  visit  to  President 
Poincare  and  their  review  of  our  Division  Maroc. 
on  Oct.  26th.  Those  were  wonderful  pictures, — 
inspiring  to  see  that  vast  review  of  the  Colonial 
troops,  Zouaves,  Tirailleurs,  our  noble  Legion  and 
the  Cavalry  as  we  passed  before  the  reviewing 
party.  I  do  hope  you  and  Rivers  and  Rod.  see 
those  pictures  when  they  are  shown  in  the  States 
for  very  probably  they  will  be — or  ones  like  them, 
at  some  time.  You'd  have  a  useless  and  fruitless 
task  in  looking  for  your  son  among  that  vast  army. 
He's  only  a  tiny  unit  of  those  thousands,  but  it  will 
give  you  some  idea  of  the  vastness  of  one  small  por- 
tion of  the  fighting  forces  de  la  Republique  Fran- 
Qaise,  dear  Mother,  and  I  feel  certain  'twould  make 
you  sit  up  and  hold  your  breath  some. 

It  is  miserably  damp  and  cold  here  now.     The 


114  WAR  LETTERS 

sun  hasn't  been  out  to  amount  to  anything  for  days 
and  days.  I'm  thoroughly  disgusted  with  the 
climate  of  Western  Europe.  God's  country  is 
never  like  this. 

I  hope  you  or  Rivers  or  Uncle  Clair  have  done 
something  about  the  Navy  Dept.  matter.  Let  me 
know  just  as  soon  as  you  hear  from  the  Dept.  I'm 
almost  positive  the  answer  won't  be  at  all  joyful, 
Mother,  but  somehow  we're  going  to  clean  decks 
some  day. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

November  29th,  1915. 

ETOILE  ADORABLE,  !  ?  ?  ? 

Don't  dare  call  me  any  such  name  as  that. 
'Tis  too  high  and  lofty  for  such  as  I.  If  you  don't 
know  what  an  ttoile  is  get  a  French  translation  book 
and  look  it  up. 

Have  you  been  spilling  ink  for  me  lately  ?  I  cer- 
tainly hope  you  have  because  I  haven't  had  any  of 
your  bright  literature  for  a  good  many  weeks  and 
I've  been  looking  for  some  right  along. 

The  six  shortest  days  of  this  month  I  spent  in 
bright  little  Paris.  I  say  the  six  shortest  days  be- 
cause they  were  just  that  to  me.  Why  is  it  the 
days  of  one's  best  pleasures  have  to  speed  by  the 
quickest  ?  They  sure  did  hum  past !  I  had  a  great 
time  though  in  spite  of  the  shortness  of  the  time. 
If  I  remember  correctly  I  sent  you  a  few  lines  of 
script  on  a  postal  one  of  those  days.  I  sent  several 


EDMOND  GENET  115 

postals  but  it  is  yours  I  remember  particularly 
'cause  I  believe  I  imbedded  my  love  on  it — or  am  I 
thinking  of  one  of  the  other  cards  to  some  other 
"young  thing"?  Gosh  !  Maybe  I  am  !  I  do  get 
absent-minded  occasionally,  chere  amie,  but  you'll 
pardon  the  deficiency,  won't  you  please  ? 

I  hope  you  survived  Thanksgiving  Day.  I  har- 
bored a  most  agonizing  appetite — agonizing  be- 
cause I  was  several  thousand  miles  from  one  of  those 
real  American  turkey  and  squash  (they  can't  fool 
me  about  it  being  pumpkin)  pie  dinners.  Oh !  it 
sure  was  a  hungry  day  for  me  but  I  still  exist  and 
next  year's  Thanksgiving  Day  I  pray  I  will  be  where 
I  can  just  pour  in  the  good  food  and  I'll  have  a 
double  appetite  then  to  make  up  for  this  year's 
lost  feed. 

I  do  wish  you  would  send  me  a  little  sunshine, 
Jeannette.  There's  nothin'  but  rain  and  then 
some  more  and  wet  snow  and  frost  every  blessed 
day.  It  has  been  that  way  this  entire  month  and 
bids  fair  to  be  the  same  all  December  and  January. 
Over  here  it's  a  fine  day  if  it  just  rains  part  of  the 
day  and  a  bad  day  if  it  rains  all  day.  The  nights 
don't  count;  I  sleep  then — if  it's  not  too  cold. 

By  the  time  this  reaches  you  it  will  be  nearly 
Christmas  time  so  right  now  I'm  going  to  wish  you 
all  a  mighty  bright  and  merry  Christmas  season  and 
a  very,  very  joyful  happy  New  Year.  May  it  con- 
tain also  a  treaty  of  peace  and  complete  tranquillity 
for  these  hell-loving  nations  over  here  so  I  can  hike 
back  to  the  native  heath. 


116  WAR  LETTERS 

Don't  neglect  to  spill  considerable  ink  on  my 
account, 

Affectionately, 

EDMOND. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

November  30th,  1915. 

DEAR  RIVERS, 

We  are  not  out  at  the  actual  front  just  now  but  I 
think  it  will  not  be  very  many  weeks  before  we  get 
orders  for  the  line.  We've  been  in  repose  ever 
since  the  middle  of  October.  This  week  the  Legion 
is  being  fitted  out  in  Khaki  uniforms  and  discard- 
ing the  gray  ones.  They  (the  gray)  are  most  cer- 
tainly very  invisible  but  the  khaki  is  the  more  prac- 
tical and  is  being  adopted  almost  universally. 

When  I  went  to  Paris  early  this  month  I  took 
with  me  quite  a  bunch  of  cartridges  and  trophies 
of  various  sorts  which  I  picked  up  in  the  cap- 
tured German  trenches  at  Champagne.  I  left 
them  there  in  the  suitcase.  I  cut  one  belt-plate 
from  off  the  belt  of  a  dead  Boche.  It  has  a  crown 
in  the  centre  with  "Got  Mit  Uns"  written  around 
the  crown,  not  a  bad  souvenir.  I  picked  up  three 
fine  German  bayonets  while  there  but  lost  them 
later  before  I  could  get  them  back.  It's  not  very 
easy  to  carry  many  things  while  fighting  anyway. 
One  wants  to  be  as  light  as  possible. 

I  sure  had  a  dandy  time  in  Paris  with  Dave  and 
Mrs.  Wheeler  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guerquin.  They 
did  all  sorts  of  things  to  give  me  a  fine  time — din- 


EDMOND  GENET  117 

ners  and  the  theatre  and  sightseeing,  etc.  'Twas  all 
too  short  a  time.  The  hotel  proprietaire  was  only 
going  to  charge  me  2  francs  50  (50  cents)  a  day  for 
my  room  on  account  of  my  being  a  soldier  but  I 
made  him  take  3  francs  a  day.  Pretty  cheap — 
about  $4.20  for  6  days  and  7  nights,  wasn't  it  ?  He 
has  been  fine  about  keeping  my  suitcase  there 
safely  for  me  all  the  time  and  has  readily  sent  me 
any  clothes  from  it  I  have  written  to  him  for  and  he 
has  also  agreed  to  handle  any  money  Uncle  Clair 
may  send  me,  change  it  at  Paris  and  send  it  on  to 
me  by  the  regular  French  military  letter  of  recom- 
mendation which  all  the  soldiers  get  their  money  at 
the  front  with  and  thus  save  me  a  lot  of  unnecessary 
trouble.  There's  no  necessity  of  questioning  his  hon- 
esty either.  Mr.  Guerquin  has  known  him  a  long, 
long  time  and  I  am  sure  he  is  perfectly  reliable. 

On  Sunday  I  received  a  fine  box  of  chocolates 
from  Dave  Wheeler.  He  and  his  wife  have  sent  me 
candy  and  magazines  and  fruit  cake  quite  often. 
A  fellow  couldn't  want  for  better  friends. 

Did  you  enjoy  Thanksgiving  Day  ?  Not  being  a 
French  holiday,  it  passed  the  same  as  any  other 
day  here  but  I  sure  had  an  appetite  all  the  same  for 
the  usual  Turkey  dinner  we  always  had  in  the  years 
gone  by.  I  sure  hope  this  hell  will  have  long  since 
ended  by  Thanksgiving  of  1916  and  we'll  all  have  a 
rousing  big  feed  together  then  to  make  up  for  last 
time. 

This  letter  will  not  reach  you  until  nearly  Christ- 
mas time  so  I'd  better  wish  you  a  mighty  merry  day 
of  it  now  than  wait  'til  later  when  it  will  be  too  late. 


118  WAR  LETTERS 

May  the  New  Year  be  much,  much  more  prosperous 
and  bright  for  us  all,  Rivers,  than  those  past  ones 
have  been. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  Etrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

December  4th,  1915. 

MY  DEAR  ROD., 

Yesterday  I  received  your  letter  of  Nov.  13th 
and  with  it  the  diary  1916.  Many,  many  thanks 
for  both.  I  have  been  wondering  what  adventures 
and  wanderings  will  be  put  down  in  its  pages  ere 
1916  is  closed?  The  1915  book  is  fairly  exciting 
that  way.  I  really  hope  that  somewhere  about 
June  or  sooner  I'll  be  able  to  write  down  "La  Paix 
Europeenne"  in  its  annals.  I  saw  in  a  French  paper 
several  days  ago  that  our  tin-car  manufacturer, 
Mr.  Ford,  of  Detroit,  Mich.,  declared  this  conflic- 
tion  of  modern  barbarians  would  gently  and  surely 
terminate  by  "le  Jour  de  Noel."  Yes!  Possibly 
for  a  six-day  suspension  of  fighting  if  the  Pope  at 
Rome  succeeds  with  his  petition  to  the  belligerent 
powers.  I  reckon  that  will  be  all  the  termination  of 
the  war  there  will  be — if  that !  .  .  . 


Hospital  Anx.  307 

(postmarked  Neuilly  sur  Seine, 

Dec.  5,  1915). 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GENET, 

Your  boy's  thanks  and  your  own  are  very  grate- 
ful but  I  hope  you  both  know  that  he  gave  more 


EDMOND  GENET  119 

than  he  got.  We  were  the  only  two  Americans  in 
the  battalion  and  his  company  was  more  cheering 
than  I  can  tell  you  in  the  dull  days  of  "repose" 
before  we  went  into  action. 

In  the  advance  of  Sept.  28  Genet  kept  on  until 
only  one  man  of  his  company  was  left — the  rest  were 
shot  or  had  taken  refuge  in  the  trenches.  It  was 
only  then  that  they  decided  to  retreat.  Genet's 
companion  got  rattled  and  was  killed  but  your 
son  owes  his  escape  to  his  own  coolness  and  good 
judgment.  As  all  the  officers  were  shot  he  probably 
wont  be  decorated  but  the  regimental  flag  received 
the  war  cross  for  the  action  in  which  he  took  so 
gallant  a  part. 

The  Legion  is  so  reduced  in  numbers  I  doubt  if  it 
takes  part  again  in  any  important  manoeuvres  but 
if  it  does  I  am  sure  Genet's  cool  head  will  carry 
him  through  without  a  dangerous  injury.  Mus- 
grave,  a  Texan,  has  the  same  steady  nerve  and  he 
has  been  in  four  attacks  without  a  scratch  and  that 
is  just  the  kind  of  men  who  win  the  charges. 

If  I  can  get  back  to  the  Legion  I  shall  try  to  get 
in  your  son's  squad,  but  if  my  leg  stays  crooked  I 
hope  to  return  home  and  have  the  honor  of  calling 
on  the  mother  of  the  bravest  boy  I  know. 

Yours  very  truly 

DAVID  E.  WHEELER. 


120  WAR  LETTERS 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

December  22,  1915. 

MY  DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Contrary  to  my  expectations  we  are  not  going  to 
be  in  quietude  and  repose  on  Christmas.  Yester- 
day, amid  a  drenching  rain  and  snow,  we  marched 
over  thirty  kilometres  of  muddy  sloppy  roads  to 
the  front.  God  only  knows  what's  hi  store  for  us 
ere  another  week  is  up  but  I  have  my  suspicions. 
Noel  is  going  to  be  no  merry  day  for  this  Division 
by  any  means  I'm  sure,  and  Christmas  week — well 
— 'twill  be  the  last  week  of  the  year  and  more  than 
likely  the  last  week  for  more  than  a  few  of  the  Legion 
fitrangere. 

Your  package  has  thus  far  failed  to  reach  me 
but  I  am  still  hoping  it  hasn't  been  lost  or  nabbed. 
I  had  a  large  Christmas  package  from  the  American 
Church  at  Paris.  It  was  filled  with  candy,  some 
things  to  wear  such  as  a  muffler,  gloves,  etc.,  and 
magazines  with  best  wishes  from  the  Americans  of 
the  Church.  What  do  you  suppose  I  received  the 
day  before  yesterday  from  Dave  and  Mrs.  Wheeler  ? 
It  'most  overwhelmed  me.  It  was  a  regulation 
officer's  rainproof  "slicker,"  and  a  dandy  gift!  I 
found  it  most  serviceable  yesterday  in  the  march 
and  it  is  going  to  be  mighty  convenient  to  me  at  all 
times  as  this  is  one  rainy  country  especially  in 
winter.  It  must  have  cost  at  least  seven  or  eight 
dollars  and  I  sure  was  overwhelmed  when  I  thought 
of  their  splendid  generosity.  I  feel  as  if  I  am  doing 


EDMOND  GENET  121 

all  the  receiving  and  none  of  the  giving  but  it  doesn't 
seem  to  matter  to  them  in  the  least.  They  are 
friends  among  a  million ! 

I've  too  much  to  do  to  write  any  more  now.  I 
want  to  get  this  off  while  there  is  a  chance  of  its 
going  out.  Before  I  close,  dear  Mother,  let  me 
impress  on  your  mind  this  fact: — DON'T  believe 
any  newspapers  should  they  report  anything  about 
me.  If  I  am  killed  or  missing  or  dangerously 
wounded  you'll  be  notified  in  due  time  by  the  au- 
thorities themselves.  And  DON'T  worry  about 
me.  If  God  means  me  to  die  fighting  for  France 
worry  isn't  going  to  keep  me  alive.  I'm  here  to 
"DO  or  DIE." 

With  every  bit  of  love, 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 

December  24th,  1915 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  all  my  letters  have  reached 
you  and  Rivers  and  Rod. 

I  wrote  you  the  day  before  yesterday  just  after 
getting  out  to  the  front.  Thus  far  we  have  done 
nothing  and  we  may  leave  for  the  interior  in  a  few 
days.  Of  course  nothing  is  definite  and  if  any- 
thing was  definite  I  couldn't  tell  you  anyway. 

It  is  fine  and  generous  of  the  ladies  of  that 
Phila.  Colonial  Chapter  to  send  me  a  box  and  for 
the  good  Ossining  friends  and  New  York  relations 
to  think  of  me  and  send  me  Xmas  boxes.  I  feel 
altogether  too  popular  for  my  position,. 


WAR  LETTERS 

I  suppose  from  your  inquiry  that  you  think  the 
"Exp"  I  write  before  my  name  on  the  envelopes 
has  something  to  do  with  my  rank  but  let  me  assure 
you,  dear  Mother,  that  you  are  far  wrong.  It  sim- 
ply means  in  English — "from"  or  "the  sender" 
and  stands  for  the  French  word  "Expediteur." 
Several  people  have  written  it  before  my  name 
when  addressing  letters  to  me  which  must  have 
looked  extremely  foolish  to  the  French  authorities 
just  as  it  would  look  ridiculous  to  our  postmen  if 
a  Frenchman  wrote  "From"  before  the  name  of 
an  American  thinking  it  was  a  title  or  such. 

I  don't  expect  to-morrow  will  be  a  very  merry 
Christmas  but  I'm  not  complaining.  I'm  happy  in 
the  realization  that  my  friends  are  all  on  the  other 
side  of  the  water  or  away  from  this  conflict  where 
they  can  have  a  merry  Christmas. 

The  sun  came  out  for  a  few  minutes  yesterday 
and  I  had  a  chance  to  see  what  it  looked  like.  It's 
a  decidedly  infrequent  visitor  over  here.  "Absence 
makes  the  heart  grow  fonder." 

Let  me  tell  you  a  funny  incident  which  occurred 
last  week  during  some  sham  military  manoeuvres  of 
the  Regiment.  The  Commandant  of  our  Battalion 
is  very  jolly  and  given  to  make  funny  remarks  now 
and  then.  In  looks  he  reminds  me  of  our  pictured 
Santa  Claus,  short,  round  and  jolly  with  flowing 
white  whiskers  covering  his  shirt-front.  During  a 
sham  attack  he  suddenly  pretended  that  he  had 
been  hit  and  killed  by  a  bursting  shell.  "Je  suis 
mort,  je  suis  mort !"  he  cried  and  every  one  laughed. 


EDMOND   GENET  123 

A  little  later  two  soldiers  in  the  same  spirit  of 
amusement  declared  they  too  were  dead — just  to 
get  out  of  some  work  which  had  to  be  done  at  the 
moment.  The  Commandant  glared  at  them  for  a 
minute.  "  Vous  etes  morts  ?  "  he  questioned ;  "  bon, 
je  suis  chef  des  morts,  allez  avec  moi!"  They 
followed  him. 

I  do  hope  your  package  reaches  me  all  right  very 
shortly.  I  can't  see  why  the  authorities  could  have 
any  reason  for  withholding  it  from  me.  Every- 
thing you  say  is  in  it  is  permissible  for  the  soldiers. 
Perhaps  all  four  boxes  will  reach  me  before  January. 
With  all  love  to  you  and  best  wishes  to  every  one, 
Ever  your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 

Jan.  1,  1916. 

DEAR  GENET, 

This  is  the  first  time  I  have  written  1916  and  there 
is  no  one  I  would  rather  begin  the  year  with  than 
you.  Under  separate  cover  registered  I  shall  send 
your  money  order  which  will  not  arrive  as  soon  as 
this. 

I  hope  Lydon  comes  to  the  A.  A.  During  my 
permission  I  am  required  by  the  bureau  de  Sante 
to  report  there  daily.  This  I  am  very  glad  to  do 
for  living  in  Paris  there  is  nothing  better  to  occupy 
one  than  surgery.  The  bureau  talk  of  disaffecting 
me  to  the  service  of  the  hospital  at  the  end  of  my 
leave  of  absence.  I  still  hope  to  return  to  the 
Legion  if  I  am  not  lame  and  to  get  reformed  [in- 


124  WAR  LETTERS 

valided]  if  I  am.  To  stay  in  Paris  till  the  end  of 
the  war  would  be  too  beastly.  It  is  against  the 
French  rules  to  reform  [invalid]  a  one-legged  man 
until  he  has  a  wooden  leg  so  Lydon  had  better 
get  busy.  I  don't  know  about  the  M.  M.  (me- 
daille  militaire)  but  hope  he  gets  it,  more  because 
he  stuck  to  his  post  when  others  ran  than  because 
he  is  shy  one  pin. 

I  have  received  the  papers  of  my  war  cross 
(croix  de  guerre)  so  I  know  you  were  a  true 
prophet  and  thank  you  very  much  for  watching  the 
Bulletin  for  me.  I  watch  it  too  but  sometimes  miss 
a  copy.  It  will  probably  be  months  before  the  cita- 
tion is  published. 

The  skin  has  quite  closed  over  the  hole  in  my  leg 
and  to-day  for  the  first  time  it  does  not  require  a 
dressing. 

With  all  best  wishes  I  am 

Yours  very  truly, 

DAVID  E.  WHEELER. 


Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

January  6th,  1916. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

It  was  December  24th  when  I  last  wrote  to  you, 
but  I  have  been  holding  off  this  long  in  hopes  your 
Xmas  package  would  arrive  but  thus  far  not  one 
of  the  four  you  wrote  me  were  being  sent  have 
come.  I  don't  quite  understand  why  they  haven't 


EDMOND  GENET  125 

as  it  seems  to  me  they  are  long  overdue.  Anyway 
I  do  hope  they  haven't  been  nabbed  and  thus  never 
will  reach  me.  I  want  those  two  good  suits  of 
woolen  underclothes  and  the  gloves  too  much  to 
want  them  to  clothe  some  one  else. 

Just  to-day  we,  the  squad  I'm  in,  had  our  picture 
taken  and  when  it  is  finished  and  we  get  the  cards 
(it  is  to  be  on  post-cards)  I'll  send  you  one.  We 
received  our  new  khaki  overcoats  yesterday  so  the 
picture  shows  us  in  them.  Eventually  the  Legion 
will  all  be  clothed  in  khaki  garb  but  now  only  the 
first  battalion  has  it  and  most  of  us  only  have  the 
overcoats  thus  far.  The  casque  (helmet)  is  used 
by  practically  all  the  French  troops  now  to  help 
protect  the  head  from  shrapnel  and  "spent"  bul- 
lets. They  are  no  protection  against  "unspent" 
bullets  unless  they  hit  at  such  a  large  angle  that 
the  metal  could  possibly  cause  them  to  glance  off. 
The  casque  weighs  about  23/£  pounds. 

The  new  khaki  uniforms  are  a  great  deal  better 
made  than  are  the  old  gray  ones.  The  overcoats 
are  a  bit  heavier  in  material  and  weight  and  much 
superior  to  the  gray.  I  feel  much  more  like  a 
modern  soldier  now, — more  American. 

I  don't  know  whether  it  would  be  safe  to  send  the 
1915  diary  back  by  mail  now  or  not.  It  might  not 
pass  the  censorship  board.  I  think  I'll  send  it  to 
Truchet,  the  propri£taire  of  the  hotel  in  Paris,  and 
let  him  put  it  in  my  suitcase.  I  hope  it  won't 
be  a  very  long  while  before  I  can  carry  all  my  things 
back  to  "home  and  Mother" — the  dearest  there 


126  WAR  LETTERS 

ever  was.  It  won't  be  any  time  in  advance  of  next 
fall  though  even  if  peace  negotiations  should  start 
somewhere  early  in  the  Summer.  Peace  negotia- 
tions take  months  and  especially  will  those  of  this 
world- wide  scrap.  I  guess,  even  if  the  war  does 
terminate  this  year  of  grace,  it  will  be  well  into  '17 
ere  your  "hopeful"  comes  sailing  home. 

'Twill  be  just  a  year  the  evening  of  the  13th  of 
this  month  since  that  said  "hopeful"  walked  in  on 
you  at  Norristown  on  his  way  back  from  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.,  and  informed  you  that  he  was  on  his 
way  to  France.  The  following  morning  he  bid  a 
mighty  quiet  but  heartfelt  farewell.  The  20th  he 
sailed  and  here  it  is  a  whole  year  later ! 

The  Austrians  have  sunk  another  ship  with  some 
U.  S.  citizens  aboard  and  after  I  supposed  the  trou- 
ble between  the  two  countries  was  over  when 
Austria  said  she  would  punish  the  commander  of  the 
submarine  which  torpedoed  the  Ancona  and  prom- 
ised to  pay  indemnity  for  the  American  lives  lost. 
And  still  the  "notes"  continue  to  circulate — noth- 
ing more — on  the  part  of  the  IT.  S. — but  Austria  and 
Germany  still  continue  to  laugh  behind  Uncle 
Sam's  back  and  murder  his  peaceful  innocent  citi- 
zens unhesitatingly. 

It's  getting  toward  "taps"  so  this  lengthy  docu- 
ment must  necessarily  be  brought  to  anchor.     A 
world  of  love  to  you,  dear  little  Mother  from— 
Your  loving  "hopeful"  in  khaki, 

EDMOND. 


EDMOND  GENET  127 

January  18th,  1916. 

DEAR  LEAH, 

Christmas  chimes  and  New  Year  bells  have  long 
since  finished  ringing.  When  this  reaches  you 
it  will  doubtless  be  half-way  to  Easter-tide.  How 
time  flies ! 

To-day's  paper  brings  unfavorable  news  for  the 
Allies.  Montenegro  surrendered  sans  condition 
yesterday  to  Austria.  Will  Servia  go  next? 

So  there  is  no  skating  at  Macy's  pond  this  season  ? 
That  is  unfortunate  because  Law's  always  was  a 
long  walk  and  never  seemed  to  me  to  be  half  so  nice. 
I  don't  suppose  the  Hudson  has  frozen  over  yet 
enough  for  skating.  About  the  last  thing  I  did  at 
Ossining  last  January  was  to  skate  one  morning  on 
the  river.  There  isn't  a  sign  of  even  cold  weather 
here  in  this  part  of  France.  Nothing  but  rain,  rain, 
rain,  'most  every  day.  It  doesn't  sound  very  agree- 
able, does  it  ? 

On  account  of  being  at  the  front  we  could  not 
enjoy  a  very  merry  Christmas  or  New  Year.  New 
Years  was  better  than  Christmas  simply  because 
it  is  a  great  deal  more  celebrated  in  this  country 
than  is  Christmas.  The  soldiers  celebrated  it  as 
freely  as  was  possible.  The  day  following  proved 
that,  for  every  one  was  feeling  a  bit  dull  under  the 
scalp. 

The  day  before  yesterday  we  moved  back  to  the 
interior  and  will  go  still  farther  before  the  end  of 
the  week.  I  doubt  whether  we  shall  be  again  at 
the  actual  front,  until  Spring  is  well  advanced  un- 


128  WAR  LETTERS 

less,  of  course,  les  Boches  start  something  before 
then  which  seems  unlikely  from  present  observa- 
tions. Practically  all  the  heavy  fighting  is  being 
done  by  the  Russians  (who  are  to  be  lauded  for 
their  splendid  drives)  and  in  the  much-torn  and 
trampled  Balkan  States.  They  certainly  are  get- 
ting their  share  of  the  mauling. 

The  other  day  I  read  in  the  paper  here  of  the  new 
giant  caliber  guns  being  installed  for  the  defense 
of  the  Panama  Canal  and  the  important  points  of 
the  east  and  west  coasts  of  the  States  such  as  at 
Sandy  Hook,  San  Francisco  and  other  points. 
They  surely  are  huge,  being  of  400  millimetres. 
I'm  glad  to  see  the  States  are  wakening  up  to  the 
necessity  of  national  defense.  It's  almost  beyond 
time  for  that. 

There's  yet  another  bit  of  interesting  news  re- 
corded in  the  Paris  journals  several  days  ago.  It  is 
that  "Teddy"  Roosevelt  is  running  for  the  presi- 
dential chair  on  the  G.  0.  P.  ticket  and  that  is 
great  news  to  me.  This  year's  campaign  bids  well 
to  be  one  of  excitement  and  immense  interest. 
Three  cheers  and  success  to  "Teddy,"  shout  I. 
Now  maybe  you  won't  write  to  me  any  more  if 
you  don't  want  to  vote  (?  ?  ?)  for  him.  I  never 
thought  of  that  before  I  started  to  rave.  Please 
forgive  me ! 

Henry  Ford  didn't  give  the  world  peace  for  a 
Christmas  gift  and  should  it  come  by  Spring 
(which  it  won't)  it  won't  be  because  of  the  efforts 
of  that  new-sprung  pacifist.  By  the  way,  I  saw  one 


EDMOND  GENET  129 

of  his  tin-can  autos  here  the  day  before  yesterday. 
'Twas  a  friendly  sight. 

Vive  la  Paix !  It's  all  right  to  sing  "It's  a  long, 
long  way  to  Tipperary,"  but  I  want  to  shout:  "When 
Johnnie  comes  marching  home!" 

Au  revoir  maintenant  et  bien  de  choses  a  tout  le 
monde. 

Sincerely, 

EDMOND. 

January  19th,  1916. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

On  account  of  never  receiving  the  letter  I  wrote 
on  Oct.  3rd  you  ask  me  to  give  an  account  of  what 
we  did  at  Champagne,  so  I'll  begin  at  the  beginning 
and  endeavor  to  make  it  as  interesting  and  consecu- 
tive as  possible.  Arriving  at  the  environs  of  that 
section  of  the  front  about  the  first  week  in  Septem- 
ber we  marched  into  an  amazing  hustle  and  bustle 
of  preparation  for  the  intended  drive.  We  de- 
trained just  east  of  Chalons-sur-Marne  and  marched 
several  kilometres  toward  the  front  the  same 
morning  before  dawn,  camping  for  the  day  to  eat 
and  rest  at  a  newly  installed  camp  of  concentration. 
There  we  came  into  the  first  rush  of  mobilization  for 
the  attack.  The  routes  were  jammed  to  over- 
flowing with  huge  auto-trucks,  wagons  and  automo- 
biles carrying  food  and  other  supplies  to  the  troops 
and  tearing  back  to  reload.  Day  and  night  they 
kept  it  up.  At  night  they  ran  practically  without 
lights,  as  much  as  possible,  for  security  against 


130  WAR  LETTERS 

hostile  aero  scouts  and  distant  batteries.  It  was 
thrilling  to  see  those  huge,  powerful  trucks  rushing 
along  the  roads  at  almost  breakneck  speed, — dark, 
terrible  symbols  of  the  serious  business  before  us. 
It  seemed  uncanny,  weird,  unnatural.  The  large 
bodies  of  troops  were  always  moved  at  night  and 
kept  well  under  cover  as  much  as  possible  in  the 
daytime.  Invisibility  at  all  times  of  modern 
warfare  is  of  the  utmost  necessity, — in  concentrat- 
ing for  an  attack  as  much  as  in  the  actual  fighting. 
We  couldn't  even  smoke  when  marching  along  the 
routes  at  night  for  fear  some  flying  aeroplane  or 
scout  balloon  observer  should  discern  the  many 
tiny  sparks  that,  though  seemingly  small  and  in- 
significant in  one,  would  surely  be  counted  in  hun- 
dreds should  smoking  be  permitted  at  such  times. 

Leaving  the  camp  of  concentration  that  same 
night  we  marched  to  a  town  called  Suippes  and 
thence  to  a  woods  about  three  kilometres  beyond 
and  nearer  the  front.  The  country  all  around 
there  is  made  up  of  many  large  plains  with  here 
and  there  small  wooded  parts  which  were  admirable 
hiding-places  for  troops.  There  we  camped  until 
the  morning  of  the  25th,  about  a  two  weeks'  period 
in  which  we  were  served  the  necessities  for  the  com- 
ing fight — new  clothes  for  old  if  required,  masks  for 
protection  from  gas,  the  metal  helmets  and  many 
other  things  including  the  extra  ammunition;  120 
rounds  is  ordinarily  carried  per  man  and  250  for 
actual  fighting.  The  latter  is  no  light  load.  The 
last  few  nights  of  those  two  weeks  we  dug  "leaders" 


EDMOND  GENET  131 

to  the  trenches  for  the  passage  of  the  extra  troops. 
The  earth  there  is  composed  of  chalky  limestone 
and  is  very  hard  to  dig  through.  We  had  to  dig 
the  leaders  sufficiently  wide  for  the  portage  of  the 
wounded  on  the  litters  too — about  six  feet.  Dig- 
ging almost  all  night  required  sleeping  practically 
all  day  which  we  did  with  joy  and  relief.  Each 
squad  slept  in  a  tent.  Each  soldier  carries  a  light 
square  of  canvas  which,  when  buttoned  with  several 
others,  forms  an  excellent  tent  for  as  many  men  as 
there  are  squares  used.  When  not  used  to  form  a 
tent  these  canvas  squares  make  excellent  water- 
proofs. 

The  night  before  the  25th  our  colonel  read  to  us 
in  the  dusk  the  order  from  Gen'l  Joffre  for  the 
attack.  The  Division  Marocaine  was  to  be  in  the 
first  reserve.  The  Colonial  Division  made  the 
attack.  Long  before  dawn  on  the  25th  we  marched 
to  our  position  just  to  the  rear  of  the  first  French 
line,  to  the  west  of  the  little  village  (then  a  mass  of 
shattered  ruins)  of  Sompey,  amid  a  drenching  misty 
rain.  We  had  light  loads  in  our  sacks  and  plenty 
of  cold  rations  in  our  musettes  (food-bags).  The 
bombardment  of  the  German  trenches  before  the 
charge  was  terrific.  The  German  line  looked  like 
a  wall  of  fire  and  hellish  flames  from  the  bursting 
shells.  The  batteries  of  both  sides  made  the  world 
sound  like  Hades  let  loose.  From  the  sharp  crack 
of  the  famous  French  75  's  to  the  deep  roar  of  the 
aerial  torpedoes  it  was  an  incessant  Bedlam. 
About  nine  o'clock  a  French  aeroplane  flew  right 


132  WAR  LETTERS 

over  our  first  line,  circled  around  and  back.  It  was 
the  signal  for  the  French  batteries  to  cease  shelling 
the  German  first  line  and  for  the  Colonials  to  charge. 
They  did,  and  nobly  too.  Taking  the  German  first 
line,  with  a  vast  number  of  prisoners,  they  forced 
the  Germans  back  to  their  reserve  lines.  Then  it 
was  that  we  began  our  advance  in  their  rear  as  re- 
serves. Passing  through  the  leaders  toward  the 
old  French  line  we  passed  scores  of  captured 
wounded  Germans.  Some  of  them,  mere  boys  of 
16  to  20,  were  in  a  ghastly  condition.  Bleeding, 
clothing  torn  to  shreds,  wounded  by  ball,  shell 
and  bayonet,  they  were  pitiable  sights.  I  saw 
many  who  sobbed  with  their  arms  around  a  com- 
rade's neck.  We  passed  French  dying  and  wounded 
being  hurriedly  cared  for  by  the  hospital  attendants. 
Blood  was  everywhere  and  it  was  simply  sickening. 
The  smell  of  powder  filled  the  air  and  to  me  it  is 
one  of  the  most  disagreeable  odors  we  encountered 
with  the  exception  of  what  came  later — that  of 
decayed  bodies  of  horses  and  mules  and  even  men, 
left  unburied  for  whole  weeks.  That  is  too  horrible 
for  more  than  mention. 

We  followed  up  the  Colonials  and  passed  part  of 
the  late  morning  in  the  captured  German  trenches. 
They  were  battered  beyond  description  and  filled 
with  dead — mostly  Germans.  German  equipments 
lay  thrown  everywhere,  discarded  in  the  flight. 
Many  German  wounded  could  be  seen  making  their 
way  painfully  to  the  rear.  I  remember  one  poor 
fellow  who  must  have  been  totally  blinded  for  he 


EDMOND  GENET  133 

walked  directly  into  the  barbed  wire  and  had  a 
most  trying  and  painful  time  to  get  out.  It  made 
me  sick  to  watch  him.  I  turned  away  but  couldn't 
find  anything  more  cheerful  to  look  at.  The  Coloni- 
als who  had  been  killed  in  the  charge  lay  in  ghastly 
wrecks  before  the  German  line,  the  sickly  death 
pallor  of  their  hands  and  faces  in  awful  contrast 
with  the  pools  of  blood  about  them.  The  wounded 
were  being  carried  back  as  fast  as  possible.  The 
German  batteries  continued  to  shell  all  around  us 
all  the  time  and  it  was  interesting  to  watch  the  big 
shells  burst  in  the  rear  and  send  the  dirt  and  rocks 
far  into  the  air.  One  burst  directly  in  a  body  of 
cavalry  on  one  of  the  roads.  It  was  horrible ! 

About  two  o'clock  we  began  to  advance  under 
fire  behind  the  Colonials  and  then  it  was  that  I 
had  about  the  closest  shave  from  death  in  all  that 
month.  Our  section  had  to  advance  over  a  ridge 
and  we  must  have  been  seen  by  a  battery  which 
was  sending  shells  of  320  mm.  caliber  into  the  ad- 
vancing Colonials.  Somehow  we  felt  that  huge 
shell  coming;  how,  I  don't  know,  but  we  all  just 
threw  ourselves  flat  into  the  mud.  If  I  had  been 
one  little  hundredth  of  a  second  late  I  wouldn't  be 
telling  the  tale  now.  I  felt  that  monster  hurl  di- 
rectly over  my  head;  the  intake  of  air  raised  me  at 
least  an  inch  out  of  the  mire  which  I  was  gripping 
with  every  finger  and  with  all  my  might.  The 
shell  burst  not  more  than  three  yards  behind  me 
and  killed  four  of  the  section  and  wounded  several 
others.  My  heart  had  one  of  the  quickest  jumps  of 


134  WAR  LETTERS 

its  life.  I  thanked  God  then  and  there  for  His 
mercy  and  He  must  have  heard  me,  for  no  other 
shells  came  our  way  though  they  kept  bursting  to 
our  left  among  the  Second  Regiment  in  endless 
numbers.  Just  behind  the  Second  was  a  battery  of 
75  's  which  had  been  rushed  up  at  the  advance  and 
they  were  barking  away  at  a  terrific  rate.  The  sight 
of  the  dead  lying  about  was  awful.  Most  of  them 
had  been  literally  torn  to  pieces  by  the  exploding 
shells.  The  sight  of  one  will  never  pass  from  my 
memory.  A  Colonial  was  in  a  sitting  posture 
against  a  small  embankment.  There  was  an  ex- 
pression of  agonizing  terror  on  his  features,  and  no 
wonder,  for  below  his  waist  he  had  been  blown  to 
shreds.  One  of  his  feet,  the  only  thing  recognizable 
of  his  lower  anatomy,  was  lying  several  yards  in 
front  of  him.  I  think  we  all  shuddered  as  we  passed. 

We  continued  on  our  advance  until  darkness  set 
in  and  lay  all  that  night  in  a  drenching  rain  in  wa- 
tery mud.  Sleep  was  practically  impossible.  Shells 
were  dropping  around  us  every  few  minutes  and 
anyway  the  horrors  of  the  day  just  closed  were  too 
awful  to  allow  pleasant  dreams  or  even  sleep  to 
follow.  All  night  the  cries  of  the  dying  could  be 
heard.  I  felt  as  though  I  were  in  some  weird  night- 
mare. I  wish  it  had  been,  for  then  I  could  have 
awakened  and  found  it  to  be  only  a  dream.  As  it 
was  it  was  a  grim  reality. 

Just  after  we  arrived  at  that  place,  when  dark- 
ness had  set  in,  was  when  Dave  Wheeler  showed  his 
coolness.  There  was  a  false  cry  for  us  to  charge 


EDMOND  GENET  135 

and  the  Third  Company,  in  which  he  was,  started 
forward  with  bayonets  on.  The  Commandant  of 
the  Battalion,  seeing  the  mistake,  jumped  in  front 
of  the  advancing  and  excited  men  and  tried  to 
check  them.  One  of  the  sergeants  of  the  Third 
helped  him  and  Dave,  cooler  than  the  rest,  did  the 
same.  The  check  succeeded  and  Dave  told  me 
afterward  that  the  Commandant  asked  who  he  was. 
The  Commandant  found  a  soldier's  death  directly 
in  front  of  Dave  on  the  28th  in  our  attack.  Early 
the  next  morning  I  tried  to  find  Dave  and  couldn't 
and  so  was  very  afraid  that  he  had  been  killed  in 
the  previous  day's  advance. 

We  changed  our  position  early  that  morning  to 
a  small  woods  behind  the  new  French  line  which 
the  Colonials  were  holding,  and  were  under  a  ter- 
rific bombardment  all  the  day,  being  in  direct  line 
between  the  dual  fire  of  a  French  battery  of  75 's 
and  one  of  the  German  77's.  The  German  shells 
landed  nearer  to  us  than  they  did  to  the  French 
battery.  That  night  our  first  lieutenant,  a  fine 
young  man,  was  instantly  killed  by  a  bursting  shell. 
We  buried  him  where  he  fell  like  any  other  soldier. 

Being  out  of  rations,  several  of  us  had  to  go 
nearly  six  kilometres  that  night  for  new  rations  for 
the  company.  You  can  imagine  how  tired  we  were 
when  we  got  back  and  it  was  raining  again  which 
didn't  help  sleeping  a  bit. 

The  following  day  we  moved  farther  back  to  an- 
other woods,  but  here  we  got  into  a  worse  bombard- 
ment. We  lost  men  there  every  day.  To  protect 


136  WAR  LETTERS 

ourselves  as  much  as  possible  from  the  bursting 
shells  we  dug  individual  trenches  into  the  ground 
just  large  enough  to  lie  in,  but  many  a  poor  fellow 
merely  dug  his  own  grave  for  they  are  no  protec- 
tion should  a  shell  fall  directly  into  one  on  top  of 
the  occupant.  It  was  hell  and  nothing  less.  That 
day  I  found  Dave  and  felt  much  better  for  it.  I 
guess  he  did  too  for  that  matter.  That  was  the 
27th — only  the  third  day  of  the  horrors. 

The  28th  (it  will  live  in  my  memory  forever) 
brought  no  excitement  until  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon. Then  we  were  ordered  to  prepare  to  depart 
for  the  attack.  The  Colonel  had  chafed  over  con- 
tinually being  in  reserve  and  had  personally  asked 
the  General  in  command  for  permission  to  put  the 
Legion  to  the  front  attack.  His  request  was 
granted.  The  first  and  second  companies  of  the 
First  Battalion  and  the  third  and  fourth  of  the 
Second  Battalion  were  to  take  the  advance.  The 
other  two  companies  of  each  battalion  held  the 
reserve.  Ahead  of  us  the  Arab  Tirailleurs  made 
two  strong  charges  and  both  times  had  to  fall 
back.  They  were  ordered  to  make  a  third  and, 
refusing  to  face  again  the  murderous  fire  of  the 
German  machine-guns,  turned  in  flight.  Mean- 
while we  had  started  our  advance  in  solid  columns 
of  fours,  each  section  a  unit.  It  was  wonderful — 
that  slow  advance.  Not  a  waver,  not  a  break, 
through  the  storm  of  shell  the  Legion  marched  for- 
ward. Officers  in  advance  with  the  Commandant 
at  their  head;  it  inspired  us  all  to  courage  and  calm- 


EDMOND  GENET  137 

ness.  We  met  the  fleeing  Tirailleurs  and  our  officers 
tried  to  turn  them  back.  I  saw  our  Commandant, 
wrath  written  all  over  his  face,  deliberately  kick  one 
Arab  to  make  him  halt  in  his  flight.  Shells  were 
bursting  everywhere.  One  lost  his  personal  feel- 
ings. He  simply  became  a  unit — a  machine. 

Crossing  a  clearing  we  came  at  last  to  a  woods 
just  in  front  of  the  German  line.  There  we  met 
the  decimating  fire  of  the  machine-guns,  bayonets 
were  fixed,  and  the  order  given  to  advance  on  the 
run.  A  faint  cheer  rose  above  the  ping-ping  of 
the  bullets.  Leaping  a  trench  containing  the  terri- 
fied Tirailleurs,  we  charged.  The  forward  French 
line  which  the  Colonial  troops  were  holding  was  still 
before  us.  There  was  a  slight  pause  when  we  got 
there.  The  sections  formed  into  a  skirmish-line 
and,  being  in  the  fourth  section  of  our  company, 
the  Fourth,  I  got  away  over  on  the  left  flank.  The 
Third  Company  was  on  our  right.  Everywhere 
men  were  falling.  The  fire  was  terrific.  As  I 
ran  for  the  left  with  the  section  I  could  hear  the 
bullets  cutting  the  leaves  and  twigs  all  around  me — 
ping,  ping,  they  hissed  as  they  struck  the  trees. 
They  came  from  the  front  and  the  left,  hissing  death 
in  our  ranks  'til  there  were  few  of  us  left. 

While  the  woods  ended  at  the  French  line  in 
front,  they  extended  far  beyond  on  our  flank.  We 
leaped  the  first  line  where  the  Colonials  were. 
Their  duty  was  to  stay  there  and  hold  that  line. 
We  charged  on,  but  somehow  about  fifty  metres 
ahead  of  the  line  I  found  myself  alone  with  one  other 


138  WAR  LETTERS 

young  fellow  from  my  section.  The  others  who  had 
leaped  the  French  line  with  us  were  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  Seeing  this,  we  dropped  flat  behind  a  bush, 
thinking  the  rest  would  rush  up  behind  us  and  con- 
tinue the  charge.  The  Germans  had  begun  to 
shell  the  wood  just  ahead  of  us.  The  din  was 
terrific.  Dead  Tirailleurs  were  lying  everywhere, 
killed  in  those  two  first  charges,  ghastly  and  bloody. 
There  were  none  of  the  Legion  around  us  to  charge. 
I  turned  to  my  companion  and  said,  "They're  all 
dead  here  (motioning  to  the  corpses);  the  section 
must  be  behind  us;  shall  we  beat  it  back?"  He 
nodded,  stood  up  and  started  back  on  the  run.  I 
followed  and  reached  the  Colonial  line  without  a 
scratch.  I  never  saw  the  young  Italian  again 
but  heard  a  long  time  after  that  he  had  been 
wounded  and  was  carried  back  that  night.  Be- 
hind the  Colonial  line  I  found  the  two  sergeants  of 
my  section  with  half  a  dozen  men.  They  had  re- 
treated before  my  comrade  and  I  had  seen  them, 
and  were  waiting  there  for  further  events.  Dark- 
ness was  falling.  I  had  thrown  away  my  sack  in 
the  commencement  of  the  charge  and  in  it  were  my 
rations — some  bread  and  a  tin  of  beef — and  my 
tent.  I  had  a  mouthful  of  water  in  my  canteen 
but  nothing  to  eat.  We  lay  there  until  after 
seven  and  then  the  Adjutant,  the  only  officer  left 
of  our  company,  found  us  and  the  remnants  of  the 
Third  and  our  company  were  gathered  together  to 
go  back  to  where  we  were  before  the  attack.  A 
half  kilometre  back  of  the  line  the  Major  (the 


EDMOND  GENET  139 

Battalion  doctor)  had  five  badly  wounded  men  of 
the  two  companies  and  asked  the  Adjutant  to  let 
us  carry  them  back  to  the  field-hospital  in  the  rear. 
Tents  were  secured,  and  with  four  of  us  to  each 
tent  we  carried  them  nearly  four  kilometres  over 
rough  muddy  ground  to  the  field-hospital.  You 
can  imagine  the  agonies  of  those  five  wounded  men 
being  carried  along  under  such  conditions.  They 
stood  it  far  better  than  I  thought  they  would. 

When  the  Adjutant  counted  us  off  in  fours  to 
carry  them  he  counted  just  thirty-one,  including 
himself,  gathered  there  from  the  two  companies  of 
250  each !  I  found  my  little  S.  American  comrade 
safe  among  them  and  heard  from  a  hospital  atten- 
dant that  he  had  seen  Dave  crawling  off  to  the  rear 
after  the  fight  with  a  bullet  wound  in  his  leg.  He 
said  he  had  more  pluck  than  any  of  them.  Thus 
it  was  that  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Wheeler  the  next  day 
and  told  her  of  Dave's  condition  and  not  to  worry. 
As  it  was,  she  heard  from  him  before  she  got  my 
note,  but  just  the  same  I  was  glad  I  had  written.  ' 
Brave  Dave  went  down  beside  his  captain,  the  last 
of  his  company  in  that  section,  and  he  saw  his  cap- 
tain and  the  Commandant  both  make  very  brave 
ends. 

The  thirty-one  of  us  reached  our  old  camp  about 
ten  and  dropped  gladly  into  our  little  trenches  for 
sleep.  It  was  raining,  there  was  an  inch  of  water  in 
my  trench  and  I  had  no  tent  to  put  over  me.  I 
was  soaked  through,  covered  with  mud,  hungry, 
thirsty,  and  thoroughly  exhausted  but  sleep  was 


140  WAR  LETTERS 

impossible.  I  dozed  and  shivered  for  the  rest  of 
the  night,  thinking  of  the  afternoon's  events  and 
wondering  fearfully  whether  Dave  was  alive  and 
safely  on  his  way  to  succor.  I  prayed  it  was  so 
and  dawn  brought  sunshine  and  some  warmth. 

We  who  were  left  looked  around  that  morning  to 
see  who  was  there.  Old  faces  were  gone.  Out  of 
my  squad  of  twelve  there  were  only  two  of  us  left. 
We  all  had  our  little  accounts  to  tell.  Our  Adjutant 
and  the  few  sergeants  left,  at  the  order  from  the 
Colonel,  got  the  Third  and  Fourth  Companies  to- 
gether into  one.  There  were,  with  those  who  turned 
up  that  day,  about  120  all  told— all  that  was  left 
from  nearly  500 !  We  got  soup  and  meat,  a  swal- 
low of  whiskey  and  wine,  and  tried  to  make  our- 
selves comfortable.  It  was  hard  work.  I  wrote 
the  letter  to  Mrs.  Wheeler  and  sent  it  off  with  the 
mail  clerk.  We  got  mail  that  afternoon,  and  a  letter 

from  cheered  me  up  immensely.  The  world 

began  to  look  a  bit  brighter. 

The  next  day  I  found  some  of  the  Americans  in 
the  other  Battalion  and  learned  of  Farnesworth's 
death  in  the  attack.  No  other  American  was  lost 
in  the  First  Regiment. 

October  2nd  we  were  drawn  back  to  the  rear  to 
the  camp  where  we  were  the  first  day  at  Cham- 
pagne. The  French  were  strengthening  their  posi- 
tion all  over.  New  positions  were  being  established 
for  the  batteries.  All  the  counter-attacks  of  the 
German  forces  had  failed.  The  French  victory  was 
complete. 

We  had  three  days'  repose  in  which  time  we  got 


EDMOND  GENET  141 

clothes  washed  and  cleaned,  a  hot  bath,  and  some- 
what rested  arid  reorganized.  Then  it  was  that  I 
wrote  to  you  the  letter  which  never  got  through. 

Our  work  at  Champagne  wasn't  over  as  we  had 
hoped.  We  returned  to  the  reserve  lines  and 
moved  about  from  one  position  to  another  all  the 
first  half  of  October.  At  this  time  the  French 
were  just  beginning  to  assemble  and  bury  the  dead 
around  the  old  German  line  which  had  been  taken 
on  Sept.  25th.  It  was  a  horrible  sight — those 
grotesque  forms,  stiffened  as  they  had  fallen, 
glassy  eyes  still  staring  from  their  sockets.  Eden 
Musee  contains  no  such  horrors  as  those  still  forms 
presented.  They  were  identified  by  the  metal 
name  plates  which  every  European  soldier  carries 
(it  contains  his  name,  matricule,  and  date  and  place 
of  enlistment)  and  buried  in  large  common  graves. 
Gradually  the  horrors  disappeared  into  memories. 
God  knows  these  are  bad  enough ! 

From  October  13th  to  17th  we  were  in  the  first 
line  and  under  bombardment  practically  the  whole 
time.  Every  night  we  dug  an  advance  trench  and 
the  second  night  the  Germans  discovered  us.  They 
shelled  us  for  over  an  hour  and  all  we  could  do  was 
to  hug  the  earth  in  the  newly  begun  trench  and  let 
the  shells  burst  and  roar  about  our  ears.  It  isn't 
pleasant  to  be  shelled  when  there's  no  protection 
of  any  account  to  get  behind.  It's  bad  enough 
when  there  is  some  protection.  It  was  in  just  such 
a  plight  that  poor  Joe  Lydon  was  wounded  a  couple 
of  weeks  before.  His  battalion  was  in  the  first  line 
and  he  was  doing  guard  duty  one  night  with  his 


142  WAR  LETTERS 

corporal  and  two  or  three  others  in  advance  of  the 
line.  The  German  batteries  opened  up  and,  when 
the  shell  which  cut  off  the  lower  half  of  Lydon's 
right  leg  burst,  the  rest  ran  back  to  the  trench  for 
cover.  Lydon,  wounded,  had  to  brave  it  out,  ex- 
pecting every  second  to  be  killed  by  some  shell. 
Finally  he  managed  to  crawl  slowly  back  and  was 
dragged  over  the  trench  wall  by  his  comrades  and 
hurried  to  the  rear  and  thence  to  Chalons-sur- 
Marne  to  a  hospital  there.  He  certainly  fully  de- 
serves the  Medaille  Militaire  which  he  is  getting. 

October  17th  we  were  relieved  by  the  170th 
Regiment  d'Infariterie  to  which  most  of  the  other 
Americans  had  changed  the  preceding  week.  We 
marched  back  all  that  night  and  so  relieved  and  glad 
were  we  that  our  time  at  Champagne  was  at  last 
over  that  we  sang  and  whistled  almost  the  entire 
march,  tired  as  we  were.  Toward  dawn  we  camped 
in  a  woods  a  few  kilometres  south  of  a  town  called 
Coverly.  We  were  there  three  days  getting  fixed 
up.  All  had  a  good  hot  bath,  washed  their  clothes 
and  cleaned  everything  up.  Late  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  20th  the  Division  Marocaine  et  Coloniale 
entrained  at  a  small  place  east  of  Chalons-sur- 
Marne  and  Champagne  with  its  horrors  was  left 
gladly  behind.  Thus  ends  my  tale,  dear  Mother, 
and  from  it  you  can  see  something  of  the  horror 
and  tragedy  of  modern  warfare.  May  it  soon 
come  to  an  end.  We  all  want  the  taste  of  peace 
to  return  to  our  hungry  hearts.  That  of  war  is 
too  bitter, 


EDMOND   GENET  143 

God  bless  you,  dear  little  Mother  mine.  I  don't 
wonder  you  felt  so  lonely  on  New  Year's  day  with 
your  kids  so  separated  from  you.  How  I  hope  we 
may  all  be  together  again  before  this  year  ends ! 

From  my  last  letter  of  the  16th  you  will  know 
that  your  package  reached  me  O.  K.  with  only  a 
shirt,  pair  of  gloves  and  the  candy  gone. 

It's  time  to  turn  in  so  must  close  now.  With  all 
love,  Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

January  27th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

.  .  .  We  have  been,  and  for  that  matter,  are, 
very  much  on  the  go.  For  the  past  two  weeks  we 
have  been  moving  back  from  the  line  and  are  now 
within  a  short  day's  march  from  where  the  Division 
is  to  have  three  weeks'  or  a  month's  manoeuvres 
with,  I  understand,  some  English  recruits.  If  the 
latter  proves  to  be  so  it  will  be  some  fun  for  us 
Americans. 

Enclosed  is  a  photo  of  the  squad  I  am  in  which 
we  had  taken  early  this  month  near  the  front. 
Yours  truly  as  you  can  readily  notice  hasn't  gotten 
thin  over  the  war  thus  far  in  spite  of  all  he  has  en- 
countered. Vegetable  soup  twice  a  day,  plenty  of 
exercise,  a  big  sufficiency  of  meat,  wine  and  bread 
is  the  excuse.  Think  of  it! — the  "kid"  even 
smokes  and  drinks  now] 


144  WAR  LETTERS 

I  have  numbered  the  occupants  of  the  picture 
and  on  the  back  written  their  nationalities.  The 
Swiss  hold  the  majority.  Number  6,  the  S.  Ameri- 
can, speaks  English  and  has  been  with  me  ever 
since  I  first  reached  the  front  last  March. 

Mother's  package  finally  reached  me  about  two 
weeks  ago  with  the  box  of  candy,  one  of  the  shirts, 
and  one  of  the  pairs  of  gloves  missing  but  as  long 
as  the  rest  of  the  things  were  O.  K.  I  can't  kick 
over  the  loss. 

The  sweater  which  Uncle  Lock.  Mackie  and  some 
of  the  others  in  N.  Y.  sent  reached  me  several  days 
ago  in  excellent  condition.  It's  a  dandy  and  a 
mighty  useful  addition  to  my  outfit.  I  feel  pretty 
well  fixed  now  with  comfortable  clothes  to  wear. 
Our  company  has  received  the  khaki  overcoats  and 
jacket  but  thus  far  not  the  trousers.  Those  will 
come  shortly.  They  are  mighty  good.  The  pic- 
tures enclosed  show  us  with  the  overcoats. 

News  has  been  received  lately  that  at  least  five 
or  six  of  the  Americans  who  changed  last  Fall  to 
the  170eme  Regiment  d'Infanterie  are  either  dead  or 
else  prisoners  of  war  as  that  Reg.  was  badly  shat- 
tered several  days  ago  when  the  German  attacked 
and  took  the  trenches  it  was  holding.  Two  or 
three  of  the  fellows  luckily  were  in  Paris  on  per- 
mission at  the  time  and  thus  are  safe.  The  rest — 
we  can  only  surmise  their  fate.  I'm  glad  I  didn't 
change  when  they  did. 


EDMOND   GENET  145 

We'll  probably  get  out  to  action  around  March 
or  early  April.  It  is  very  evident  that  the  French 
and  English  are  going  to  open  up  with  a  rush  and  a 
roar  then  and  the  few  of  the  Legion  fitrangere  who 
will  be  lucky  enough  to  live  through  our  next  drive 
will  come  back  with  glory  and  undoubtedly  will 
enjoy  the  peace  celebration  as  well  as  life  later. 
There  have  been  about  forty-eight  thousand  vol- 
unteers for  the  war  in  the  Legion  since  the  conflict 
began.  There  are  about  five  thousand  left  for  ser- 
vice now  and  so  you  can  easily  guess  how  many 
there  will  be  after  another  drive — like  we  enjoyed 
last  Fall. 

In  the  village  in  which  we  were  staying  yesterday 
they  gave  us  a  special  service  at  the  church  in  the 
evening.  I  went  in  and  listened  to  the  pastor  give 
the  men  a  mighty  strong  volume  of  praise.  The 
Legion  has  had  its  knocks  and  its  glories  in  this 
brief  year  and  a  half  of  war.  Peace  may  be  only 
six  or  eight  months  away  but  before  peace  comes 
there  may  not  be  much  of  the  Legion  left. 

Mom  wrote  that  Uncle  Clair  had  written  to  the 
Dept.  to  find  out  about  me.  I  am  waiting  anxiously 
but  serenely  for  his  result.  I  know  what  it  will  be. 

Best  wishes,  dear  Brother,  and  love  from 
Your  loving  brother, 

EDMOND. 

Am  enclosing  also  a  photograph  of  a  gun  crew  of 
a  French  mitrailleuse,  a  Hotchkiss.  Every  regi- 
ment has  its  quota  of  mitrailleuses. 


146  WAR  LETTERS 

February  16th,  1916. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

...  I  had  a  lovely  letter  from  Mrs.  Lloyd. 
She  spoke  of  your  letter  to  her.  Among  other 
things  she  wrote  was  that  little  Ricka,  ever  since  I 
asked  her  to  pray  for  me,  in  one  of  my  letters,  has 
put  into  her  prayers  every  night  "And  please,  God, 
bring  Edmond  Genet  safely  home  from  war." 
"Surely,"  writes  her  mother,  "God  will  answer  that 
prayer,"  and  surely  He  will,  say  I  also.  Little 
Ricka  must  be  a  very  patient  little  girl. 

Thus  far  nothing  has  come  from  Uncle  Clair  in 
regard  to  the  Dept.  I  am  looking  for  a  letter  every 
day  now  though  I  know  he  will  not  have  heard 
very  quickly  in  response  to  his  request. 

"Preparedness"  is  having  a  big  fight  all  through 
the  States  now  as  well  as  in  Congress.  I  had  some 
Phila.  papers  of  early  January  sent  to  me  by  an 
American  in  Paris  and  there  were  some  articles  in 
them  about  the  contest.  I'd  like  to  know  all  that 
is  going  on  about  it  as  it  interests  me  not  a  little. 

Where  we  are  staying  just  at  present  there  is  a 
family  of  refugees  from  Flanders, — or  rather  the 
wife  with  three  little  youngsters  and  an  older 
daughter.  One's  heart  goes  out  to  such  homeless 
victims  of  the  early  tragedy  of  this  war,  Mother. 
So  many  of  them  are  throughout  France  now- 
trying  to  make  both  ends  meet !  One  knows  that 
the  father  and  perhaps  a  brother  or  two  are  either  of 
three  things:  dead,  in  forced  military  service  under 
the  German  hand  of  power,  or  heroically  giving 
their  all  in  the  service  of  their  gallant  young  king. 


EDMOND  GENET  147 

February  28th,  191(5. 

Yours  of  the  7th  reached  me  a  couple  of  days 
back  and  I've  been  trying  to  get  in  time  enough 
between  guard  and  sleep  since  to  write  this. 

We  are  out  on  the  line  and,  from  all  appearances, 
will  be  here  for  some  weeks  to  come.  Just  before 
we  were  hurriedly  ordered  out  I  was  within  two 
days  of  leaving  for  my  permission  to  Paris  and  then, 
miserable  luck! — we  came  here  and  now  I  under- 
stand all  leaves  are  suspended  for  as  long  as  we 
are  on  the  line  and  my  looked-for  pleasure  is  days 
in  the  future.  I  had  hopes,  up  to  to-day,  of  getting 
off  sometime  this  week  but  now  I  feel  sure  that  won't 
be  possible. 

Chaplain  Pearce  says  he  gives  this  war  three 
more  years  unless  the  Allies  hit  it  up  pretty  strong 
—far  more  strenuous  than  they  are  doing  now. 
Russia  is  doing  splendidly  but  over  on  this  front 
most  of  the  hitting  is  being  done  by  the  Boches. 
Three  more  years  of  this  and,  if  I  live  through  it, 
I'll  be  a  fit  candidate  for  an  asylum ! 

I  wish  my  next  letter  to  you  was  to  be  written 
in  Paris  but  I'm  pretty  certain  'twill  be  scribbled 
right  here  and  several  others  to  follow  also. 

With  best  wishes  to  all  and  all  love  from 

Your  loving  third, 

EDMOND. 

...  I  am  one  of  the  battalion  signallers  now  as  I  knew 
the  signal  code  used  and  they  put  me  in.  It  isn't 
quite  as  exalted  a  position  as  a  general  but  still  it's 
something. 


148  WAR  LETTERS 

March  3rd,  1916. 

DEAR  RIVERS, 

Our  regimental  flag  was  decorated  to-day  with  the 
Russian  Cross  of  St.  George  by  the  general  of  the 
Division  for  our  work  at  Champagne.  It  was 
decorated  last  Oct.  26th  with  the  French  Croix  de 
Guerre  by  President  Poincare  for  the  same  thing. 

Have  you  by  any  chance  read  or  heard  of  us 
Americans  who  have  enlisted  here  in  France  for  this 
war  being  disfranchised  by  the  Amer.  Gov't  for 
disregarding  the  neutrality  and  thus  being  denied 
the  right  to  vote  ?  I  heard  yesterday  in  an  indirect 
way  that  such  was  the  case.  I  simply  cannot  be- 
lieve it.  In  that  case  the  Embassy  or  Consulate 
in  Paris  should  notify  us  and  first  give  us  a  chance 
to  get  out  of  the  service  here  and  thus  escape  dis- 
franchisement.  I  have  written  to  Dr.  Wheeler  to 
see  if  he  knows  anything  about  it. 

Late  last  week  I  was  within  two  days  of  getting  to 
Paris  on  a  6  days'  permission,  but  on  account  of  the 
activities  of  the  Boches  at  Verdun  all  permissions 
were  suspended  temporarily  and  thus  far  haven't 
been  started  up  again  so  I  am  still  in  mighty  strong 
impatience  waiting. 

We  were  out  on  the  first  line  for  6  days  lately  and 
it  was  pretty  wet  and  sloppy  as  the  first  two  days 
there  was  quite  a  blizzard  and  then  the  snow  melted 
and  rain  fell  in  considerable  quantities  so  that  by 
the  time  we  came  out  for  repose  we  were  pictures- 
quely soiled  and  wet — besides  being  decidedly 
sleepy.  Aside  from  several  short  bombardments  we 


EDMOND  GENET  149 

had  a  fairly  quiet  time.  One  afternoon  when  I  was 
on  guard  a  shell  fell  directly  in  front  of  me  but  failed 
to  explode.  There  are  lots  like  that  but  naturally 
my  heart  hit  the  trail  for  my  mouth  for  a  few  brief 
seconds.  We  had  the  joke  on  the  Boches  because 
they  learned  that  the  Legion  was  opposite  them 
and,  having  weak  troops  in  that  secteur  and  sup- 
posing that  we  were  there  for  an  attack  (you  see 
what  a  name  we  have)  they  put  in  reinforcements 
and  fresh  troops  but  by  that  time  we  were  on  our 
way  to  the  rear !  Guess  they  had  quite  a  scare. 

The  Boches  sure  have  been  driving  hard  in  the 
east  around  Verdun.  They  lost  about  75,000  and 
gained  but  three  or  four  kilometres.  Trop  cher,  ga  ! 

Nothing  has  come  from  Uncle  Clair  yet  concern- 
ing the  N.  Dept.  and  I  am  watching  every  day  for  a 
letter  from  him.  I  know  though  it  will  take  quite 
a  while  to  get  a  response  from  the  Dept. 

I  understand  Wilson  has  declared  he  will  write 
no  more  notes  to  Germany  and  intends  to  take  im- 
mediate strong  action  if  they  sink  another  ship 
with  Americans  aboard.  I  think  Germany  wants 
us  in  this  conflict,  Rivers,  so  now  they  surely  will 
torpedo  an  American  vessel. 

EDMOND. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  £trang£re, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

March  6th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

My  last  letter  of  the  28th  was  written  from  the 


150  WAR  LETTERS 

trenches.  We  made  our  sortie  on  the  1st  for  re- 
pose— covered  with  mud,  wet,  tired  and  bedraggled. 
During  the  first  two  days  there  was  quite  a  hard 
blizzard.  Tlje  following  days  were  intervals  of 
rain  and  sunshine  which  did  away  with  the  snow 
to  such  an  extent  that  everything  under  foot  was 
soaked  and  running  mud  and  water  and  by  the  time 
we  came  out  we  all  looked  like  part  of  the  slime  it- 
self. I  made  a  chilly  bath  and  changed  and  washed 
clothes  at  the  place  we  stopped  for  that  night  and 
slept  like  a  log  afterward. 

Your  letter  of  Feb.  13th  came  this  afternoon  and 
how  relieved  and  glad  I  am  to  know  that  my 
account  of  Champagne  did  really  reach  you  with- 
out being  nabbed  or  censored  for  I  certainly  be- 
lieved that  such  would  be  its  fate.  I've  no  doubt 
that  it  was  very  interesting  to  that  old  Civil  War 
veteran  and  also  will  be  to  the  Colonial  Chapter. 
You  may  think  a  lot  of  it  is  exaggerated  but  I  beg 
to  assure  you,  dear  Mother,  that  such  isn't  my 
ability — to  make  up.  There  was  really  lots  I  for- 
got to  put  in  which  might  have  added  to  the  in- 
terest but  never  mind  now.  I  guess  'twas  grue- 
some enough  as  it  is. 

I  am  still  waiting  impatiently  for  my  leave  to 
Paris.  On  account  of  the  German  activities  at  Ver- 
dun all  permissions  were  suspended  and  I  am  now 
wondering  fearfully  whether  I  shall  get  off  before 
Dave  and  his  wife  decide  to  sail  for  the  States. 

(There's  a  cunning  little  puppy  trying  to  lick  my 
face  while  I'm  writing  this  and  he  just  planted  his 


EDMOND  GENET  151 

dirty  little  paw  on  the  other  half  as  you  can  see 
by  the  smudge.) 

I  enclose  a  charming  letter  I  received  from  an 
American  who  lives  in  Paris  but  has  gone  to  Nice 
for  a  time  and  invited  me  to  spend  part  of  my 
leave  there  with  her.  You  see  the  French  govern- 
ment sends  free  all  the  permissionaires  to  wherever 
in  France  they  wish  to  go  for  leave  so  I  could 
go  to  Nice  for  four  days  and  then  to  Paris  to  be 
with  the  Wheelers  four  more  days  and  my  time  of 
travel  would  not  be  counted  as  actual  days  of  leave, 

but  I  have  thanked  and  told  that,  owing  to 

my  acceptance  to  be  with  Dave  and  Mrs.  Wheeler 
and  the  fact  that  I  am  not  sure  when  I  shall  get  the 
leave  (she  may  have  returned  to  Paris  ere  I  get 
off  on  leave)  I  feel  that  I  must  decline  her  generous 
hospitality.  It  surely  was  a  temptation  to  say  yes 
though,  for  I  know  how  beautiful  the  Riviera  is  at 
this  season  and  what  a  pleasant  time  she  would 
give  me. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guerquin  asked  me  to  stay  with 
them  also  but  I  had  already  accepted  the  W.'s  in- 
vitation so  had  to  decline.  I  also  know  a  Miss 
Harper  whose  father,  once  in  the  Legion,  is  a  promi- 
nent Amer.  lawyer  in  Paris  and  she  has  asked  me 
to  spend  half  of  whatever  Sunday  I  may  be  in  Paris 
with  them, — luncheon,  then  going  somewhere  in  the 

afternoon  and  dinner  afterward.  She  and have 

sent  me  books,  magazines  and  different  things  quite 
a  number  of  times  and  written  very  nice  letters  as 
well. 


152  WAR  LETTERS 

How  wise  of  you,  Mother  darling,  to  plan  a  visit 
to  Ossining  after  the  D.  R.  Convention  in  May  to 
see  all  the  old  friends  and  be  with  Rivers  for  a  time. 

Supposing  that  you  will  wonder  what  the  bag- 
like  object  fastened  to  my  coat-front  in  the  photo  is, 
I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  it  contains  the  mouth- 
respirator  and  goggles  for  protection  against  asphyx- 
iating gas.  We  carry  it  everywhere — even  when 
10  kilometres  behind  the  actual  line. 

With  lots  of  love  to  you,  dear  Mother,  and  best 
wishes  to  all, 

Your  loving  son, 

•EDMOND. 

P.  S.  The  two  little  notices  enclosed  of  a  sergeant 
and  a  captain  in  the  356e  Reg.  dTnfanterie  may  be 
some  of  my  relations  over  here.  The  notices  are 
citations  for  the  Croix  de  Guerre  (military  medal) 
and  what  they  did  to  be  thus  decorated.  Notice 
that  both  belong  to  the  same  reg.,  so  perhaps  they 
are  father  and  son. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

March  26th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Your  adventurous  son,  in  spite  of  his  poor  French, 
etc.,  has  found  a  very  interesting  and  a  rather  lik- 
able position  in  the  signal  corps  of  the  regiment 
and  I  have  some  hopes  that  he  may  find  his  way 
into  the  brigade  corps  ere  many  weeks.  You  see 


EDMOND  GENET  153 

I  was  able,  fortunately,  to  profit  from  my  previous 
knowledge  of  signalling  in  the  U.  S.  N.  to  show  my 
ability  and  make  good  here  and  I  feel  a  bit  satis- 
fied over  it  too. 

There  seems  to  be  quite  some  excitement  going 
on  along  the  border  of  Mexico  between  the  U.  S. 
troops  and  Villa's  army. 

'Twas  just  a  year  ago  when  I  got  to  the  front  the 
first  time.  That  was  at  Cappy — on  the  line  and 
about  midway  between  Peronne  (east)  and  Amiens 
(west) ;  Frise  is  just  north  of  it  on  the  line,  so  per- 
haps you  can  locate  it. 

The  offensive  is  about  over  around  Verdun,  but 
a  big  attack  is  expected  in  another  part  of  the  front 
here, — a  second  big  offensive  by  the  Germans  and 
we  are  in  readiness  for  them  with  all  eyes  open. 
I'm  sure  we'll  be  in  this  one  for  fair — or  foul.  May 
we  have  a  large  share  in  ending  it  all  for  good ! 
That  would  be  an  honor  "bien  acquis."  Watch 
the  papers  carefully  but  the  excitement  will  proba- 
bly begin  before  this  reaches  you. 

These  last  few  days  (with  the  exception  of  yester- 
day which  was  fine)  have  been  both  rainy,  snowy 
and  cold — altogether  disagreeable.  We  found  it 
rather  sloppy  weather  for  digging  trenches  in  but 
that's  part  of  the  "game"  of  war.  To  tell  the 
truth  I  have  had  less  than  a  tenth  of  the  trench- 
digging  so  far  that  I  expected  to  have  when  I  came 
over.  That  isn't  anything  to  be  sorry  over  though, 
is  it?  Just  from  keeping  my  two  eyes  well  open 
and  collecting  the  knowledge  securely  in  my  head 


154  WAR  LETTERS 

I've  learned  lots  about  field  fortifications  and 
trenches  and  battery  positions,  etc.,  in  this  last 
year  here.  Maybe  it  will  all  come  in  mighty  agree- 
ably handy  some  time  in  the  future — for  my  own 
country's  benefit.  Experience  certainly  is  the  best 
instructor  after  all's  said  and  done. 

March  28th,  1916. 

Have  just  received  this  p.  M.  your  letters  of  the 
5th  and  8th  and  am  considerably  startled  to  learn 
of  my  having  been  wounded  with  the  Legion  at 
Verdun.  That  lively  correspondent  who  put  that 
particular  bit  of  information  in  the  paper  would 
thoroughly  comprehend  my  health  condition  and 
physique  if  I  had  him  here  with  me  now — I'd  make 
a  complete  surety  of  that.  You  will  certainly 
have  learned,  from  the  fact  that  my  letters  written 
after  the  date  the  paper  reported  me  wounded, 
which  naturally  tell  nothing  of  such  a  calamity, 
that  it  is  all  bosh  and  rubbish  and  will  not  be  worry- 
ing until  this  particular  letter  reaches  you.  That 
fact  gives  me  considerable  relief  for  I  certainly 
don't  want  you  worrying  over  me  and  especially 
over  false  reports. 

Had  I  been  wounded  you  certainly  would  have 
heard  from  me  or  from  some  source  such  as  Dave, 
for  I'd  do  my  best  to  get  some  news  through  to  you. 

As  we  haven't  had  any  dealing  in  the  least  with 
the  Boches  at  Verdun  I  cannot  very  well  write  any 
experiences  for  the  Paris  papers  to  that  effect.  As 
for  ever  being  a  war  correspondent— well  that's  a 


EDMOND  GENET  155 

questionable  question  of  a  future  date  but  there  are 
lots  of  better  jobs  on  the  market. 

That  article  you  enclosed  about  the  through 
naval  vessels  which  included  my  former  floating 
home  is  quite  an  interesting  one  to  me.  The  Navy 
Board  isn't  doing  a  rash  thing  to  put  those  three  on 
the  back  seat.  If  they'd  only  keep  on  and  put  the 
rest  of  the  back  numbers  on  the  shelf  and  build  a 
fast  battle-cruiser  in  the  place  of  each  they'd  begin 
to  have  somewhat  of  a  modern  sea-fighting  force- 
one  that  might  attain  some  real  respect  and  con- 
sideration from  the  other  world-powers. 

Spring  is  coming  with  a  grand  rush.  The  early 
wild  flowers  of  the  season  just  carpet  the  woods  and 
this  morning  I  found  the  first  violets  peeping  forth 
in  the  grass  beside  a  tiny  stream.  Periwinkles  (we 
had  a  small  bed,  you  remember,  beside  the  old  home 
and  dear  old  Dad  liked  them  so  much  for  his  Sun- 
day button-hole  bouquet)  grow  quite  wild  here  and 
they  are  spread  in  beautiful  masses  all  through  the 
woods  beside  the  early  white  wild  strawberry  buds. 
All  the  trees  are  breaking  forth  and  budding,  par- 
ticularly the  cherries  and  apples.  Old  winter  is 
taking,  a  breezy  farewell  of  this  war-devastated 
land. 

The  day's  mail  leaves  shortly  so  to  get  this  off 
I  must  close  right  now. 

With  best  wishes  to  all  the  good  friends  and  rela- 
tives and  a  world  of  love  to  you,  dear  patient  little 
Mother,  Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 


156  WAR  LETTERS 

Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris, 
Easter  afternoon  (April  23rd,  1916). 

MY  DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Your  French  youngest  surely  had  fortune  favor 
him  this  time;  Good  Friday  was  an  exceptionally 
excellent  Friday  this  year  for  on  that  day  I  left  the 
front  for  my  long  hoped-for  leave  and  here  I  am 
with  Dave  and  his  wife  spending  Easter,  1916,  in 
brilliant  but  war-saddened  Paris.  I  only  knew 
I  was  due  to  leave  on  my  furlough  the  evening  be- 
fore I  left  and  spent  the  time  between  guards 
(we  were  in  the  first  line)  to  pack  up  and  clean 
some  of  the  mud  and  muck  off  my  uniform 
which  was  a  sight  from  being  in  the  muddy,  sloppy 
trenches. 

Arriving  in  Paris  about  5.30  p.  M.  Friday  I  stopped 
to  get  my  valise  at  the  Moscou  Hotel  and  then 
came  straight  out  on  the  subway  to  the  Roosevelt 
where  I  was  enthusiastically  welcomed  by  Mrs. 
Wheeler  and  she  saw  to  getting  a  room  for  me.  I 
tubbed  and  put  on  decent  underwear  and  a  shirt 
and  collar  and  then  enjoyed  my  first  appetizing 
meal  I  had  had  for  five  and  a  half  months.  Dave 
sleeps  at  a  barracks  in  Paris  but  has  leave  every 
day,  so  is  only  absent  nights.  He  and  Mrs.  W.  are 
simply  lovely,  dear  Mother.  I've  only  been  here 
barely  two  days  now  and  have  enjoyed  every  min- 
ute of  it.  They  both  asked  me  to  give  you  their 
very  best  wish  and  to  tell  you  how  much  they  are 
enjoying  and  are  pleased  to  have  me  here  with  them, 
but  I  know  they  can't  feel  quite  as  strongly  appre- 


EDMOND  GENET  157 

ciative  as  I  am  to  be  so  splendidly  treated  by  them. 
Mrs.  W.  calls  me  her  adopted  son. 

I  never  expected  to  be  so  fortunate  as  to  spend 
Easter  here,  for  from  the  way  the  permissions  were 
lagging  along  I  reckoned  it  would  be  well  into  May 
before  mine  would  be  forthcoming,  but  here  I  am 
and  mighty  thankful  and  jubilant  over  it,  too. 
Saturday  (yesterday)  I  did  some  shopping  in  the 
morning  and  then  we  all  three  went  to  the  "movies" 
in  the  afternoon.  In  the  late  afternoon  I  went  to 
Colombes-sur-Seine  and  found  the  Guerquins 
mighty  surprised  but  very,  very  glad  to  see  me  and 
had  supper  and  spent  the  evening.  It's  not  far  but 
the  trolley-lines  quit  running  at  8  every  night  so 
one  has  to  come  back  by  train  if  he  overstays  that 
hour. 

This  morning  I  attended  early  Holy  Communion 
at  the  American  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  and 
then  went  to  the  regular  eleven  o'clock  service  at  the 
other  American  Church  on  rue  de  Berri.  The  latter 
is  the  one  which  sent  me  the  things  last  Xmas  and 
seems  to  contain  a  far  more  sociable  lot  of  Ameri- 
cans than  the  first.  I  thanked  Dr.  Hyatt,  the  pas- 
tor, for  their  kindness  as  soon  as  the  service  was 
over. 

This  afternoon  we  took  a  walk  down-town  and 
saw  the  Easter  crowds  which,  considering  the  war, 
were  crowds  indeed.  One  sees  the  uniforms  of  all 
the  Allied  nations  here  on  the  streets  and  boule- 
vards. The  sight  is  quite  brilliant.  A  great  many 
wounded  soldiers  and  officers  are  here  in  Paris  also. 


158  WAR  LETTERS 

One  sees  sombre  colors  as  a  general  rule  on  the 
feminine  portion  of  the  crowds.  Bright  vivid  holi- 
day gowns  are  very,  very  exceptional.  As  Mrs. 
Wheeler  remarked  the  crowds  in  Paris  seem  more 
like  German  crowds  than  Parisian  for  the  very 
fact  that  practically  every  one  is  so  quiet  and 
sombre.  Black  gowns  and  frocks  are  the  rule 
rather  than  the  exception  for  there  aren't  many 
who  haven't  felt  some  loss  in  these  past  twenty -one 
months  of  conflict. 

The  gardens  and  parks  and  grounds  with  their 
flowers  and  trees,  statues  and  fountains,  and 
shrubbery  are  very  beautiful  now  that  Spring  has 
opened  up  the  buds  and  leaves  and  flowers.  To- 
day has  been  very  fine  and  clear — a  fact  very  un- 
expected for  yesterday,  Friday,  and  most  of  the 
preceding  days  of  this  month  have  been  very  April 
days — showers  most  of  the  time.  We  were  all 
mighty  glad  to  find  Easter  so  glorious  and  pleasant. 

My  leave  is  up  Friday  morning.  I  take  the  9.30 
train  back — but  don't  let  me  write  of  going  back 
when  this  is  only  the  second  day.  'Twill  come  all 
too  quickly  as  it  is, — "let  us  eat  and  be  merry," 
n'est-ce  pas,  chere  Mere  ? 

I  enclose  two  post-card  views  of  the  Roosevelt. 
It  sure  is  great  to  sleep  in  such  a  comfortable 
place  and  in  a  genuine  bed  once  more !  I  slumbered 
like  a  bat  in  the  daytime  these  last  two  nights — 
Heavenly  bliss  !  !  ! 

As  I  said  before  we  were  in  the  first  line  when  I 
left  and  we  will  be  there  again — or  will  the  day 


EDMOND  GENET  159 

after  I  get  back — in  all  probability.  We're  not  in 
a  very  dangerous  sector.  Just  the  same  I  had 
spent  but  a  bare  two  hours  in  sleep  during  60  hours 
previous  to  my  leaving  on  Friday  morning  so  you 
can  imagine  how  tired  I  was  when  I  finally  hit  the 
soft  white  covers  of  my  amiable  bed  on  Friday 
night  here  at  the  hotel. 

I'm  glad  to  hear  of  Rod's  new  find  in  the  question 
of  petite  femininit6.  I'll  have  to  send  him  a  few 
teases. 

How  I  hope  yours  has  been  a  happy  Easter,  dear 
Mother  !  I've  been  hoping  that  ever  since  I  turned 
out  this  morning.  Mine  has  been  far  lovelier  than 
I  ever  expected  it  would  be. 

With  every  bit  of  love  to  you  and  best  wishes  to 
all, 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 

This  morning  I  bought  a  bouquet  of  carnations 
for  Mrs.  Wheeler  for  Easter.  She  seemed  very 
pleased.  I  wish  I  could  do  more  to  show  my  grati- 
tude to  them  than  I  can  at  present. 


Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris. 
April  24th,  1916. 

CHERE  ETOILE, 

There !  You  see  how  fortune  has  beamed  upon 
me  this  time !  I  got  my  permission  on  Good 
Friday  and  spent  that  excellent  day  in  the  voyage 
to  adorable  Paris.  (Gosh  what  a  pen  this  is !) 


160  WAR  LETTERS 

Spending  Easter  here  was  a  pleasure  I  never  ex- 
pected to  enjoy  but  my  leave  came  due  exactly  at 
the  right  time  for  that  and  here  I  am. 

Can  you  make  out  this  script — the  blamed  pen 
is  scandalously  a  failure — more  like  a  quill  tooth- 
pick than  a  pen. 

I  am  visiting  two  good  friends,  a  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Wheeler  (the  doctor  was  in  the  Legion  with  me  un- 
til last  Sept.  when  he  was  too  seriously  wounded  to 
continue  service  and  is  now  being  medically  dis- 
charged), and  they  are  giving  me  a  mighty  fine  time. 
My  leave  expires  next  Friday  but  that  is  too  miser- 
able a  fact  to  think  or  worry  over  and  I'm  forgetting 
it  for  the  time  being  anyway.  'Twill  come  all  too 
soon  as  it  is. 

The  Easter  throngs  were  very  interesting.  We 
took  a  stroll  along  the  boulevards  in  the  afternoon 
and  enjoyed  watching  the  crowds  immensely. 
There  are  officers  in  the  uniforms  of  all  the  Allied 
nations  and  they  made  the  crowds  bright  and  gay- 
colored,  for  as  a  general  rule  here  now  the  feminine 
portion  is  rather  sombrely  dressed.  Paris  is  not  the 
live  and  gay  city  it  is  in  times  of  peace.  Black 
gowns  are  almost  the  rule  instead  of  the  exception 
and  every  one  seems  quiet  and  saddened.  Small 
wonder  for  that  too  when  one  considers  the  awful 
losses  of  these  past  21  months  of  conflict.  There 
aren't  many  French  homes  which  have  not  met  their 
loss  and  sorrow. 

Wounded  officers  and  soldiers  are  all  about  the 
city — many  such  pitiable  sights  too.  One  sees 


EDMOND  GENET  161 

blind  or  lame  soldiers  being  led  carefully  along.  It 
stabs  one's  very  heart, — there  are  so  many. 

This  is  a  beautiful  time  to  be  in  Paris  for  spring 
has  opened  out  all  the  trees  and  flowers  and  the 
gardens  and  parks  are  simply  glorious  in  their  colors 
and  brilliancy. 

The  piano  at  the  hotel  has  found  a  very  affection- 
ate friend  in  me.  It  surely  seemed  a  relief  to  run 
my  fingers  over  the  ivories  and  sound  the  old  famil- 
iar chords  again.  How  glad  I'd  be  to  have  you  here 
to  warble  some  of  those  old  songs  for  me!  You 
wouldn't  have  to  be  asked  twice,  would  you,  Star? 
Of  course  not ! 

When  I  passed  the  wonderful  opera-house  yester- 
day my  thoughts  were  of  you  and  I  said  to  myself: 
"There's  where  J.  H.  is  going  to  startle  Paris  some 
of  these  days."  Oh,  I've  got  high  hopes  for  you, 
dear  Star.  There's  nothing  like  aiming  high  for 
then  the  shot  will  surely  hit  away  above  the  middle. 

I  do  hope  you  all  spent  a  glorious  Easter.  I'd 
have  sent  you  flowers,  you  know,  but  couldn't  find 
the  kind  I  know  you  like.  I  was  looking  for  carrot 
tops!  Don't  get^mad  now,  cherie,  I  didn't  mean 
that,  you  know. 

Now  isn't  that  like  a  man?  There's  an  amaz- 
ingly "pretty  girl  writing  at  the  other  desk  in  this 
room  and  I  just  can't  keep  my  eyes  from  roaming 
in  her  direction.  She  won't  look  !  Isn't  that  horrid 
of  her  ?  There !  She  almost  did !  There  now— 
I'm  neglecting  you  and  that's  decidedly  impolite, 
but — I  only  looked  for  a  minute  so  you  won't  care, 


162  WAR  LETTERS 

will  you  ?  Paris  is  so  chuck-full  of  fascinating  bits 
of  feminine  ruffles  and  lace — and  blackened  eyes, 
rouged  cheeks,  and  bewitching  carmine  lips.  A 
poor  chap  like  me  with  a  uniform  on  has  to  get 
quite  dizzy  dodging  them  all,  don'  cher  know  ?  It's 
really  deucedly  trying,  bah  jove ! 

Some  of  the  English  officers  with  their  fashion- 
able uniforms  and  strappings  and  their  canes  and 
their  aristocratic  airs  do  give  me  painful  giggles  at 
times. 

This  must  be  quits  until  my  next,  Jeannette.  I 
can't  afford  to  miss  the  delightfulness  of  this  glori- 
ous day — or  that  already  shortening  furlough. 

Best  wishes  to  the  family  and  considerable  affec- 
tion to  yourself. 

Ever  sincerely  yours, 

EDMOND. 


Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  Etrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 

Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

April,  1916. 

"There's  that  old  'phone  again,  Jeannette,  do 
answer  it!" 

"Oh,  hang  it  all,  Ma,  I'm  busy." 

At  'phone :— "Hel-lo?   H-e-1— lo?   Who's  this?" 

Tiny,  faint,  far-away  voice:  "Hello,  hello,  is  this 
Halstead's?" 

"Yes,  but  please  talk  louder." 

"This  is  Genet,  Edmond  Genet  in  France. 
Who's  that?" 


EDMOND  GENET  163 

"  Goodness  gracious,  Edmond !  This  is  Jean- 
nette.  Where  are  you,  Edmond  ?  " 

"Bon  jour,  Star,  I'm  in  France.  Just  called  up 
to  chat  a  bit  with  you.  Lord,  but  it's  great  to  hear 
your  musical  chirp  again ! " 

"  Well,  if  you  aren't  the  nerviest !  Why,  you're 
not  really  in  France,  are  you  ?  " 

"Sure  I  am,  adorable  Star,  I'm  at  the  front,  too, 
just  in  rear  of  the  first  line.  But  we'll  have  to  talk 
fast  as  I  haven't  got  more  than  a  mint  of  money  to 
pay  for  this  call." 

"You've  taken  all  my  breath  away,  Edmond.  I 
can't  talk." 

"Well,  sing  then,  Jeannette.  I'm  absolutely 
gone,  I  know,  but  c'est  la  guerre.  I  swallowed  a 
German  shell  last  night  and  it  has  gone  to  my  head. 
Say,  Star,  sing  me,  *  Juste  un  peu  d'amour,'  you 
know  that." 

"  Silly  boy,  I  haven't  got  my  notes  and  the  piano 
is  in  the  next  room." 

"What's  that?— Gee,  Star,  central  just  told  me 
the  bill's  up  to  50  dollars  now.  Guess  we'll  have  to 
ring  off  pretty  soon — but  aren't  you  going  to  send 
me  a  kiss  ?  " 

"Horrid  thing!" 

"But  say,  dear  Star,  let  me  tell  you  about  that 
permission  I  was  thinking  of  getting  to  Paris  this 
week." 

"Well?" 

"I've  got  a  month  to  wait  yet  as  there  are  quite 
a  number  still  ahead  of  me.  I'll  get  it  some  time 


164  WAR  LETTERS 

in  May  if  the  permissions  aren't  suspended  again 
before  mine  is  due  on  account  of  other  probable 
Spring  activities.  Isn't  that  rotten  luck?  Now 

I'll  miss  visiting  Dr.  and  Mrs.  ,  my  friends 

there,  who  asked  me  to  stay  with  them.  They  will 
probably  sail  for  the  States  by  May  first.  It's 
mighty  hard  to  keep  a  rein  on  my  impatience  but 
I  guess  I'll  have  to  do  so  a  few  weeks  longer. 

"Oh,  yes,  beloved  fitoile,  how  is  the  play  pro- 
gressing? I  sure  wish  I  could  be  there  to  accept 
that  offer  as  your  manager.  You're  a  mighty  hard 
proposition  to  manage  though,  I'll  warrant  that. 
How  I  pity  your  poor  hard-laboring  Dad!  'Her 
First  Assignment ! '  Hump  !  I  hope  it  won't  be 
your  last,  Jeannette.  Let's  hope  it  is  the  debut  of 
a  brilliant  starry  future.  That's  the  right  way  to 
look  at  it,  isn't  it  ? 

"You  didn't  say  anything  about  a  salary  in  con- 
nection with  that  managership.  What  do  I  get  out 
of  it  if  I  accept  ?  It's  a  mighty  prominent  job  and 
very  difficult  to  fill,  so  the  salary  should  be  pretty 
large.  Besides  I  want  a  dollar  Amer.  beauty  rose 
in  my  buttonhole  every  day.  That  has  to  go  with 
the  salary." 

"Nonsense!    A  violet  will  do  just  as  well." 

"Stingy  one! 

"Jeannette,  here's  one  for  you — 

'Give  me  a  sly  flirtation, 
By  the  light  of  a  chandelier, 
With  music  to  play  in  the  pauses 
And  nobody  very  near. 


EDMOND   GENET  165 

But,  being  poor,  we  must  part,  dear, 
And  love,  sweet  love,  must  die; 
Thou  wilt  not  break  thy  heart,  dear; 
Neither,  I  think,  shall  I.' 

"How's  that, — -but  don't  take  it  seriously  for  I 
couldn't  bear  to  part  with  you,  wonderful  Star." 

"Taisez-vous,  silly  boy,  how  you  do  rave !" 

"I  know,  Jeannette,  but  it's  in  the  blood.  Our 
kitten  acted  the  same  way  when  it  was  young. 
We're  having  real  Spring  weather  now — showers, 

showers,  showers,  and  then  some  more 

?   showers,  naturally,  Miss  Inquisitive.     This 

A.  M.  it  even  called  quits  and  snowed  a  few  showers." 

"He,  he!    Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha !" 

"What  are  you  giggling  at,  Jeannette?  You 
can't  see  my  face. 

"Lord,  that  'phone  bill  is  mounting  to  boiling- 
point,  Star,  dear,  so  we  simply  must  ring  off.  I'll 
call  up  again  from  Berlin  when  we  get  there." 

Faint  voice  in  'phone: — "Au  revoir,  Edmond." 

"Hello,  you  there  still,  Jeannette?  Au  revoir 
jusq'a  une  autre  fois — au  revoir " 

Click ! — connection's  broken. 

Yours  sincerely,  EDMOND. 

R6publique  Frangaise. 

Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris, 
Thursday,  April  27th,  1916. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

This  is  my  last  day  here  this  time.  I  have  to 
take  an  early  train  out  to-morrow  morning.  The 


166  WAR  LETTERS 

permission  has  been  altogether  delightful.  Dave 
and  his  wife  have  been  just  lovely  to  me — doing 
everything  they  could  to  make  my  visit  as  pleasur- 
able as  possibly  it  could  be.  I  have  just  come  in 
with  them  from  having  dinner  down-town  in  one  of 
the  swell  hotels. 

Monday  night  a  young  American  newspaper 
reporter  who  is  at  the  hotel  (he  was  reformed  from 
the  Legion  some  while  ago  because  of  a  wound), 
by  the  name  of  Rockwell,  took  me  to  the  theatre — 
a  musical  review  at  the  Folies  Bergere.  It  was 
excellent. 

The  days  since  Easter  dawned  have  been  delight- 
ful— even  a  trifle  too  warm  for  any  real  hustling. 
I  have  simply  had  a  lovely  furlough  in  every  way. 

This  morning,  among  other  things,  I  stopped  in 
at  the  office  of  the  New  York  Sun  and  introduced 
myself  to  Mr.  Grundy,  the  head  there.  He  has 
heard  of  me  and  I  of  him  through  one  of  the  other 
fellows  in  the  Legion  and  he  was  very  pleased  to  see 
me.  If  you  or  any  one  ever  has  a  necessity  to  cable 
to  me  you  can,  if  you  wish,  cable  to  him  and  he  can 
arrange  and  forward  the  message  quite  quickly  to 
me.  He  offered  to  do  the  same  for  me  if  I  ever  had 
to  cable  home. 

Enclosed  is  a  pretty  good  likeness  of  your  French 
"poilu."  I  had  it  taken  this  time  and  was  able  to 
get  them  finished  by  this  morning.  They  only  cost 
me  three  francs  the  dozen,  which  is  about  sixty 
cents  and  quite  cheap. 

To-night  I  hope  to  get  a  last  and  excellently  sound 


EDMOND  GENET  167 

slumber  in  a  real  bed  before  going  out  to-morrow 
where  Heaven  alone  knows  what's  in  store.  There 
ought  to  be  a  violent  French  offensive  at  least  by 
next  June  if  not  more  likely  in  May.  I've  been 
pretty  fortunate  in  getting  permission  before  May 
because  I  feel  confident  that  the  permissions  will  be 
suspended  before  May  is  well  along — perhaps  for 
nearly  all  Summer  too.  The  war  may  not  be  over 
before  next  Fall — if  then. 

The  U.  S.  Army  attache"  is  staying  here  at  the 
Roosevelt.  He  is  a  Captain  Parker  and  very  pleas- 
ant. I  met  him  through  Mrs.  Wheeler  the  other 
night  and  he  plied  me  with  questions  as  to  our  life 
in  the  Legion. 

My  next  missive  will  be  from  the  front.  I  wish 
I  had  about  a  week  more  here,  but  these  six  days 
have  been  sufficiently  fine  to  pay  up  for  all  past 
waiting,  so  I  can't  kick. 

With  best  wishes  and  love  to  you  and  all, 
Your  loving  "poilu," 

EDMOND. 

Regiment  de  Marche  de  la  Legion  fitrangere, 

ler  Bat.,  4eme  Cie. 
Secteur  postal  109,  France. 

May  9th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

To-day,  one  year  ago,  the  Legion  made  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  and  successful  attacks  at  Arras 
and  so  this  is  a  sort  of  fete-day  even  though  we  are 
on  the  line.  Of  course,  being  with  the  3e  de 
Marche  of  the  Premier  Reg.  at  that  time,  I  wasn't 


168  WAR  LETTERS 

in  that  attack.  It  was  the  2e  Reg.  which  carried 
off  that  honor.  The  3e  de  Marche  was  much 
farther  south  at  that  time. 

Your  news  concerning  my  Champagne  letter 
sounds  mighty  encouraging.  I  sure  hope  you 
have  been  able  to  place  it  and  for  a  really  creditable 
amount  too.  I'm  sure  it  will  never  bring  anywhere 
near  300  but  it  ought  to  bring  between  10  and  75. 
I'm  waiting  to  hear  definitely  about  it  to  determine 
what  you  can  best  do  with  what  it  brings.  You 
can  judge  best,  knowing  the  quickest  what  it  brings, 
how  much  to  send  me.  I  suppose  I  could  have 
made  it  mighty  "yellow"  if  I  had  done  what  one 
other  Amer.  fellow,  who  deserted  after  the  Cham- 
pagne affair  and  is  now  in  the  States,  did.  He 
made  himself  a  big  hero  by  putting  in  a  lot  of  things 
he  or  the  Legion  never  did  at  all  and  his  story  was 
decidedly  and  vividly  "  yellow. "  Perhaps  you  have 
already  read  his  article,  for  a  friend  in  O  writes  me 
of  having  read  it.  I  simply  put  down  what  we 
did  do  from  start  to  finish  in  that  campaign  and  my 
personal  feelings  and  impressions  from  what  I 
actually  saw  and  did.  There's  no  fairy-tale  in  it 
anywhere  so  it's  not  as  "yellow"  as  it  would  be  if 
there  was. 

...  I  simply  won't  ask  any  girl  to  become  en- 
gaged to  me  until  I'm  able  to  marry  her  almost 
directly  afterward.  I  can't  believe  that  I  have 
any  right  to  ask  a  girl  to  tie  herself  up  to  me  as  a 
fiancee  when  I'm  not  in  the  position  to  marry.  If 
she  isn't  going  to  wait  when  we're  not  engaged,  then 


EDMOND  GENET  169 

she  isn't  going  to  wait  if  we  are  and  I'm  not  going 
to  ask  her  to  do  so  either.     Am  I  right,  Rivers? 

There  ought  to  be  exciting  things  occurring  along 
this  front  before  July.  I  only  hope  the  next  six 
months  will  be  one  awful,  wonderful  Hell — that 
we'll  drive  the  blamed  Boches  back  to  where  they 
came  from  and  then  they'll  cry  "Camarade'"  in 
such  earnest  that  we'll  be  celebrating  le  jour  de  la 
Paix  by  the  end  of  October  at  the  latest.  There 
ought  to  be  some  hard  driving  before  that  much- 
•  loved  peace  comes  anyway.  I  only  wish  I  could 
face  the  Boches  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in- 
stead of  the  Tri-color,  but, — will  I? 

The  very  best  of  luck,  dear  brother,  for  the  future. 
I  know  how  mighty  discouraged  you  are  but  things 
just  can't  continue  as  they  are  now  forever.  Luck 
has  got  to  come.  Best  wishes  to  all  the  good 
friends. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

EDMOND. 

May  20th,  1916. 

I  haven't  much  time  to  write  now  but  will  scrib- 
ble a  few  lines. 

Kindly  notice  the  girdle  around  my  waist.  Only 
the  glorious  Legion  wears  that.  It's  four  yards 
long,  a  very  pretty  light  blue,  and  we  wind  into  it. 
Out  at  the  front  it  isn't  worn  much  for  reasons  of 


170  WAR  LETTERS 

convenience  of  our  own.  The  best  way  to  wind  into 
it  is  to  put  one  end  around  a  convenient  tree  and 
turn  'til  it's  over  and  you're  rather  dizzy.  Some 
class !  The  metal  helmet  weighs  about  5  kilos. 

There's  a  rifle  inspection  at  hand  so  I've  got  to 
close  and  shine  up  the  wife.  If  I  do  say  it  myself 
I've  got  one  of  the  best-looking  and  cleanest  rifles 
in  the  company  and  she  has  seen  15  months'  actual 
service  au  front.  I  believe  in  complete  preparedness. 

All  best  wishes  and  regards  to  every  one. 
Your  loving  brother, 

EDMOND. 


FRANCE 

AVIATION— THE  ESCADRELLE  LAFAYETTE 
1916-1917 


Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris, 
May  31st,  1916. 

A.  M. 

DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Stopped  here  overnight  and  part  of  to-day  on  my 
route  to  Dijon  where  I  join  the  French  Aviation 
Corps  as  pilot  (eleve-pilote) .  I  haven't  time  now 
to  go  into  particulars.  I'm  out  of  the  Legion  for 
good  after  a  long  long  struggle  to  get  this  transfer 
through — ever  since  last  summer.  I'll  write  partic- 
ulars from  Dijon  and  send  you  my  new  address  as 
I  don't  know  it  yet.  I  may  be  at  Dijon  only  a  few 
days. 

...  All  love  and  best  wishes. 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 


Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris, 
May  31st,  1916. 

DEAR  STAR, 

Stopped  off  here  last  night  on  my  way  to  the 
French  Aviation  Corps  at  Dijon.  Have  just  trans- 
ferred from  the  glorious  Legion  to  the  Aviation 
Corps.  I  go  on  to  Dijon  this  afternoon. 

Wish  me  all  good  luck,  Jeannette.  I'm  in  the 
best  branch  of  the  service  now  and  going  to  "make 
good." 

Faithfully  yours, 

EDMOND. 

173 


174  WAR  LETTERS 

Camp  d' Aviation,  Buc, 

June  5th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

My  letter  from  the  Roosevelt  at  Paris  on  May 
31st  should  be  a  big  surprise  for  you  for  that  will 
be  the  first  news  you  will  receive  that  I  have  even 
been  trying  to  enter  the  French  aviation  corps,  let 
alone  being  actually  in  it.  I  had  been  trying, 
through  every  possible  source,  ever  since  last 
October  and  have  only  kept  it  to  myself  and  the 
few  good  friends  over  here  who  have  helped  me  do 
it  because  I  wanted  to  surprise  you  all  if  I  did  suc- 
ceed and  I  hardly  expected  to  succeed  anyway, 
which,  had  that  happened,  would  only  have  dis- 
appointed you  as  well  as  myself.  Well,  I'm  in  now 
and  to-day  arrived  at  the  camp  here  to  begin  study- 
ing to  fly.  That  ought  to  take  me  from  three  to 
five  months  of  good,  earnest,  steady  work  and  I'm 
in  to  "do  or  die." 

I  officially  entered  the  aviation  corps  the  22nd 
of  May  but  the  papers  were  delayed,  etc.,  so  that 
I  didn't  even  know  of  my  success  until  the  £9th, 
when  the  orders  came  to  the  Legion  for  me  to 
leave  for  the  aviation  depot  at  Dijon  the  next  morn- 
ing. My  happiness  at  that  news  I  can't  describe. 
It  seemed  all  like  a  dream — too  good  and  sudden  to 
possibly  be  true  but  it  was,  dear  Mother,  and  my 
long  hard  service  in  the  Legion  came  to  an  end  the 
next  day.  Another  fellow  from  N.  Y.  by  the  name 
of  Chatkoff  who  has  been  in  the  Legion  since  the 
start  of  the  war  was  changed  at  the  same  time  and 


EDMOND  GENET  175 

we  met  and  have  been  together  ever  since.  We 
stopped  off  at  Paris,  as  you  know  from  my  letter, 
on  our  way  to  Dijon  and  I  saw  Dave  and  Mrs. 
Wheeler  and  some  of  the  others.  We  left  for 
Dijon  that  afternoon  getting  there  early  the  follow- 
ing morning.  I  would  have  written  from  there  but 
we  were  too  busy  getting  fixed  out  the  thirty  hours 
we  were  there.  Last  Sat.  noon  we  were  sent  away 
to  come  here  to  Buc  (only  a  short  distance  from 
Paris)  and  we  had  to  go  through  Paris  to  get  here 
so  stayed  over  Sat.  night  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guer- 
quin  and  yesterday  was  with  the  fellows.  Sun. 
night  I  stayed  at  Truchet's  hotel. 

Dave  and  Mrs.  Wheeler  sailed  on  Saturday,  so 
of  course  I  couldn't  see  them  yesterday.  I  hope 
you  see  them  some  time  somehow  after  they  ar- 
rive. 

It  was  an  under-secretary  in  the  French  office  of 
Foreign  Affairs,  a  Mon.  de  Sillac,  Dr.  Gros,  head  of 
the  American  Ambulance,  Dave,  and  various  others 
who  helped  push  me  through  to  this.  I  saw  Dr. 
Gros  when  I  was  on  leave  in  April  and  he  was  ex- 
tremely amiable,  said  he  had  heard  about  me,  and 
helped  me  make  my  2nd  demand  to  the  Minister 
of  War  for  my  transfer.  It  needed  a  big  effort  and 
plenty  of  high  influence  to  get  out  of  the  Legion. 
That  was  our  chief  obstacle  but,  thanks  to  Dr. 
Gros  and  de  Sillac,  it  was  overcome. 

Now  I'm  at  the  aviation  school  at  Buc  and  ex- 
pect to  begin,  earnestly  and  whole-heartedly,  within 
a  day  or  so. 


176  WAR  LETTERS 

My  address  is,  until  further  notice, — 

Edmond  C.  C.  Genet,  fileve-pilote, 

Franco-American  Escadrille, 

le  Group e  d' Aviation. 

Camp  d'Aviation,  Buc . 

France. 

Probably  I'll  be  sent  around  to  several  different 
aviation  camps  before  I'll  get  through  training  and 
get  my  brevet  (pilot's  certificate)  but  letters  will 
always  be  forwarded  to  me  no  matter  where  I 
am.  I  expect  to  be  here  for  at  least  three  months 
anyway. 

I  sent  a  cable  yesterday  through  Mr.  Grundy,  of 
the  N.  Y.  Sun,  to  Uncle  Clair  for  him  to  please 
cable  me  fifty  dollars.  I  simply  must  have  that 
much  to  get  fixed  out  with  a  uniform,  shoes  and 
other  necessities  of  wear  and  use.  We  get  fitted 
out  with  everything  necessary  for  flying,  but  we 
have  to  buy  our  own  uniforms,  shoes,  etc.  I  also 
need  to  get  some  sort  of  a  suitcase  or  bag  to  carry 
my  things  in. 

There  are  ten  of  us  here  in  Buc.  Actually  at  the 
front  with  their  brevets  are  about  twenty,  with  five 
or  six  others  at  other  training  camps  so  we're  35  in 
all.  Lots  of  fellows  have  come  in  from  the  Amer. 
Ambulance,  a  few  from  civil  life,  and  about  half 
are,  like  myself  from  the  Legion  or  the  170th  Reg. 
There's  one  mighty  fine  young  fellow  by  the  name  of 
Beal  from  Pa.  and  Washington,  D.  C.,  who  got  into 
the  French  cavalry  early  last  year.  He  is,  next  to 


EDMOND   GENET  177 

Dave,  the  best  one  I've  met  over  here  of  the  Amer. 
fighters. 

I've  got  to  pay  for  all  letters  I  write  to  the  States 
now — five  cents  apiece  so  that's  going  to  be  a  nui- 
sance as  well  as  an  asset  to  my  expenses.  I  do  get 
paid  a  franc  more  a  day  here  at  the  school  than  I 
got  in  the  regular  service  but  that  isn't  much. 
Please  don't  believe  though,  dear  Mother,  that  I'm 
going  to  hit  up  any  pace  now  as  I'm  not.  I've  just 
got  to  have  some  money  to  get  decently  installed 
and  the  returns  later  should  far  more  than  pay  for 
the  outlay  now. 

This  is  the  most  dangerous  branch  of  the  service, 
Mother,  but  it's  the  best  as  far  as  future  is  con- 
cerned and  if  anything  does  happen  to  me  you  all 
surely  can  feel  better  satisfied  with  the  end  than  if 
I  was  sent  to  pieces  by  a  shell  or  put  out  by  a  bullet 
in  the  infantry  where  there  are  75  out  of  a  100 
possibilities  of  your  never  hearing  of  it.  The  glory 
is  well  worth  the  loss.  I'd  far  rather  die  as  an  avi- 
ator over  the  enemy's  lines  than  find  a  nameless, 
shallow  grave  in  the  infantry,  and  I'm  certain  you'd 
all  feel  better  satisfied  too.  We  won't  look  for 
trouble  though,  dear  little  Mother,  yet. 

If  you  can  circulate  my  address  among  some  of 
the  friends  I'll  be  much  obliged  as  I'll  not  be  able 
to  write  as  many  letters  now  as  I  did  in  the  infantry 
service.  A  little  notice  in  the  Ossining  Citizen  or 
the  Register,  if  Rivers  can  put  one  in,  might  be 
good  to  show  my  friends  there  where  I  am  now  so 
they  won't  write  to  me  to  the  Legion. 


178  WAR  LETTERS 

There's  lots  of  possibility  that  all  we  Americans 
serving  here  in  France  will  get  48  hours  off  over  the 
4th  of  July  and  be  given  a  big  banquet  by  the  Amer. 
Chamber  of  Commerce  at  Paris.  We're  all  looking 
forward  to  it  and  the  American  newspapers  there 
are  planning  to  help  us  get  it.  There  ought  to  be 
a  mighty  big  lot  of  us — many  more  than  there  were 
last  year.  Last  year,  as  it  was,  we  of  the  1st 
Regiment  got  there  2  days  too  late  to  attend  the 
banquet  on  the  night  of  the  4th.  It  will  be  far 
better  planned  this  time  so  that  shouldn't  occur. 

We  have  very  comfortable  barracks  here  and  I 
guess  we'll  be  O.  K.  for  the  rest  of  the  time — here 
or  anywhere — in  the  aero  service.  One  meets  the 
best  class  of  fellows  in  this  branch  and  we're  appre- 
ciated for  being  what  we  are, — gentlemen,  Ameri- 
cans, and  aviators. 

Wish  me  all  luck,  dear  little  Mother,  in  my  new 
work.  It  means  lots  to  me — perhaps  my  whole 
future  and  I'm  in  to  win. 

ficole  d'Aviation  Militaire  de  Buc, 
June  8th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

You  will  learn  either  from  Mom  or  Uncle  Clair 
of  my  change  to  the  aviation — before  you  get  this. 
That  memorable  date  was,  by  strange  coincidence, 
on  Memorial  Day  (May  30th).  I  could  scarcely 
believe  the  good  news  for,  though  I  had  been  trying 
to  get  transferred  ever  since  last  Fall,  I  hardly 
expected  it  was  possible  on  account  of  the  difficulty 


EDMOND  GENET  179 

in  getting  out  of  the  Legion  on  any  pretext.  That 
is  one  reason  I've  never  said  anything  to  you  all  in 
my  letters.  The  other  is  because  I  wanted  to  sur- 
prise you  if  I  did  change  which  I  rather  guess  I  have 
succeeded  in  doing, — surprise  you,  I  mean.  Well, 
I'm  at  last  where  I've  wanted  to  be  and  I  ought  to 
be  a  full-fledged  pilot  aviator,  if  all  goes  well  and 
good  luck  keeps  with  me,  within  four  months. 

I  certainly  am  mighty  well  contented  to  be  out 
of  the  Legion.  I  can't  say  much  against  it  but  com- 
pared with  aviation  it's  decidedly  back  in  the  shade. 
Aviation  is  far  more  dangerous  and  all  that,  but 
it's  well  worth  the  risks  and,  as  I  wrote  to  Mom,  I'd 
far  rather  be  killed  as  an  aviator  than  as  an  infantry 
soldier  and  you  all  would  feel  far  better  satisfied  too. 
Besides  that  if  I  am  killed  you'll  be  certain  to  know 
about  it  very  soon  if  not  immediately  afterward, 
whereas  were  I  killed  in  the  line  service  there  are 
lots  of  chances  you'd  never  hear  a  thing  about  it. 

This  is  by  far  the  best  branch  of  the  service.  The 
rewards  are  great  and  we're  treated  with  respect 
and  plenty  of  consideration.  Besides,  the  best 
class  of  men  are  to  be  found  here  and  that  means 
a  great  deal. 

All  the  Americans  are  together  in  what  is  known 
as  the  Franco-American  escadrille  d 'aviation.  Of 
course  there  are  many  now  at  the  front  but  they  are 
all  together.  There  are  about  twenty  doing  actual 
service  at  the  front  and  about  fifteen  still  train- 
ing. Ten  of  the  latter  are  still  here.  I'm  one  of 
those.  Six  of  us  all  began  last  Monday.  The  other 


180  WAR  LETTERS 

four  have  been  here  a  few  weeks.  We're  treated 
finely  here,  have  excellent  quarters,  the  food  is 
good  and,  except  for  the  uniform  and  other  personal 
clothes  which  we  buy  ourselves,  we're  fitted  out 
extremely  well. 

The  Americans  are  pushed  along  as  rapidly  as 
possible.  We're  sent  direct  here  to  begin  actual 
flying  instead  of  being  held  at  the  aviation  school 
in  Dijon  to  learn  more  thoroughly  about  the 
motors.  I  was  there  only  a  day  and  a  half  to  get 
fitted  out  and  photographed,  etc.  The  course  here 
ought  not  to  take  more  than  four  months  and  then 
we'll  take  the  test  for  our  pilot's  license  after  which 
we'll  be  sent  to  another  school — probably  at  Pau 
to  finish  up  with  target  shooting  with  the  mitrail- 
leuse on  the  aeroplane,  etc.,  after  which  we'll  join 
the  others  at  the  front.  I  don't  think  the  war  will 
be  over  by  the  time  or  before  we  have  a  chance  to 
get  a  crack  at  the  Boches  from  aloft.  Now  that 
I'm  in  aviation  I  don't  care  much  when  the  old 
scrap  ends.  I  want  the  experience  now  before  I 
have  to  quit  and  return  to  the  old  U.  S.  A.  This 
may  mean  my  future,  Rivers,  and  anyway  it  means 
further  to  me  than  the  duration  of  this  war. 

We  have  to  turn  out  at  3.30  every  morning  as  fly- 
ing hours  are  from  4  to  8  A.  M.  and  4  to  8  p.  M.  All 
other  hours  we  have  to  ourselves.  Of  course  the 
weather  counts  mostly  on  the  work,  for  no  flying  is 
attempted  here  at  the  school  on  too  windy  or  rainy 
days.  Accidents  are  too  frequent,  as  it  is,  on  good 
days. 


EDMOND   GENET  181 

What  will,  or  rather  how  will  any  of  us  ever  get 
along  in  the  service  of  the  States  after  the  war, 
with  Germans  and  Germans  as  officers  over  us? 
That's  some  proposition,  isn't  it,  Rivers  ? 

Dave  and  Mrs.  Wheeler  sailed  for  the  States  last 
Saturday.  I  sure  hope  they  meet  no  "U  "-boats. 
'T would  be  miserable  luck  to  Dave  if,  after  going 
through  all  he  did  over  here  in  the  bloody  Legion, 
to  be  pulled  under  on  his  way  back  by  a  German 
submarine. 

ficole  d'Aviation  Militaire 
de  Buc,  France, 
June  9th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  ROD., 

I'm  as  happy  as  a  lark  and  mighty  well  contented 
to  be  out  of  the  famous  Legion  though  I  haven't 
much  to  say  against  it.  The  Legion  was  fine,— 
it's  the  best  regiment  in  France  and  one  finds  fine 
companions  there  (rough,  of  course,  on  the  surface, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Americans  and  English, 
but  true  just  the  same),  particularly  Dave  W.,  but 
infantry  life  is  away  in  the  shade  alongside  of  the 
best  service  going, — aviation.  This  is  what  one 
can  call  the  real  thing.  This  is  sport  with  all  the 
fascination  and  excitement  and  sporting  chances 
any  live  fellow  could  ever  wish  for.  This  brightens 
up  the  future,  it  means  something  after  the  war 
and,  as  I've  told  Mom  and  Rivers,  if  I  don't  get 
through  then  at  least  you'll  all  know  about  it  at 
the  time  and  you'll  be  better  contented  with  the 
result  and  I'll  earn  a  far  more  glorious  end  than  I 


182  WAR  LETTERS 

ever  would  in  the  line  service.  Of  course  there  are 
lots  of  chances  of  being  shot  or  hanged  in  Germany 
if  any  of  us  American  daredevils  ever  are  so  un- 
fortunate as  to  fall  into  their  hands  alive,  but  even 
that  is  a  glorious  death.  The  Boches  certainly 
have  it  in  for  us  and  particularly  the  American  vol- 
unteer flying  corps.  The  fellows  in  it  who  are  at 
the  front  have  done  too  splendid  service  against 
them  for  them  to  feel  amiable  toward  any  of  us. 
I'll  bet  anything  that  the  Kaiser  has  issued  an  order 
for  a  special  form  of  death  to  be  doled  out  to  us 
if  we're  caught. 

My  official  farewell  was  taken  of  the  Legion  on 
May  22nd  but  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it 
until  the  order  came  on  the  29th  and  I  hiked  out 
early  the  next  A.  M.  (some  Memorial  Day  for  me) 
with  a  merry  heart,  met  Chatkoff,  another  Amer. 
from  N.  Y.  who  has  been  in  the  Legion  since  the 
beginning  of  the  scrap  and  who  got  his  order  to 
change  the  same  time  as  I  did,  and  we  left  for  Dijon 
but  managed  to  stop  over  most  of  the  31st  at  Paris, 
and  then  we  continued  our  journey  to  Dijon  that 
night.  We  only  stayed  there  until  noon  of  the  3rd 
to  get  signed  up,  etc.,  and  then  we  came  back  with 
two  other  Americans,  Dowd  (Legion  man  and  later 
in  the  170th  but  wounded  at  Champagne  and  just 
over  his  convalescence  when  he  changed  to  the 
aviation)  and  Beal,  from  Pa.  and  in  the  French 
cavalry  for  11  months  (one  of  the  best  chaps  I've 
met  over  here)  to  Paris,  stayed  there  until  Mon- 
day noon  and  then  came  here  to  the  aviation 
school  at  Buc. 


EDMOND  GENET  183 

We'll  be  here  from  three  to  four  months,  I  judge, 
although  the  Americans  are  liked  very  much  and 
are  pushed  along  as  rapidly  as  is  possible.  We 
stay  here  anyway  until  we  earn  our  brevets  (pilot's 
license)  and  then  there'll  be  a  month  or  so  at  Pau 
with  target  practice  with  the  mitrailleuses  in  the 
machines  we're  to  use  at  the  front,  and  after  that 
—the  front, — a  place  we're  all  very  anxious  to  get 
to  as  soon  as  possible. 

We  only  work  here  from  4  to  8  A.  M.  and  4  to  8 
p.  M.  The  rest  of  the  time  is  completely  to  ourselves 
for  sleep  or  anything  we  may  wish  to  do.  It's  far, 
far  from  being  like  the  Legion  where  one  is  usually 
lucky  if  he  gets  six  good  hours'  sleep  out  of  every 
twenty -four.  "I  love  the  cows  and  chickens  but 
this  is  the  life,  this  is  the  life — "  A  great  deal, 
too,  depends  on  the  conditions  of  the  weather  here. 
We  don't  attempt  to  fly  unless  the  wind  is  very 
slight  and  there's  little  or  no  rain.  Of  course  that 
won't  be  so  after  we  get  our  brevets  but  while  we're 
eleves  we  go  carefully.  I'd  hate  to  break  my  neck 
here  at  the  school  after  sixteen  months  at  the  actual 
front  with  the  bloody  Legion,  but  more  than  one 
fellow  has  done  so  here  while  an  eleve.  Just  two 
or  three  days  before  we  arrived  two  machines 
crashed  together  in  the  air  here  and  one  eleve  was 
killed  almost  instantly.  This  is  no  favored  sport 
when  it  comes  to  risks  by  any  means.  Wish  me 
good  luck,  that's  all,  Rod. 

Must  quit  now  as  it's  time  to  go  out  for  work. 
Write  and  tell  me  I'm  a  nervy  fool  for  I'm  afraid 
I  am. 


184  WAR  LETTERS 

P.  S.  Give  my  best  to  that  black-eyed  dream  of 
the  South.  Don't  tell  her  what  a  reckless,  untamed 
brother-in-law  she'll  get  or  she  may  get  alarmed  and 
perhaps  think  you  have  a  touch  of  the  same  disease. 
It  can't  be  hereditary  unless  there's  a  streak  from 
some  great-great-great-,  etc.,  etc.,  grandparent  that 
somehow  lodged  itself  into  my  system,  for  dear  old 
Dad  was  never  thus.  N'est-ce  pas  ? 

THE  KID. 


ficole  cT Aviation  Militaire, 

Buc,  S.  et  O.,  France, 

June  17th,  1916. 

ADORABLE  STAR! 

This  is  the  life !  The  school  here  (only  a  short 
distance  S.  W.  of  Paris  and  therefore  a  decidedly 
convenient  situation)  is  one  of  the  preparation 
schools  of  aviation  now  running  in  full  force  under 
the  regime  of  government.  I  expect  to  be  here 
from  three  to  four  months  before  I  get  my  brevet 
(pilot's  license)  and  then  there'll  be  two  or  three 
more  months  of  advanced  training  at  three  or  four 
other  schools  before  I  become  a  good  enough  avia- 
tor to  risk  a  valuable  machine  with  at  the  front. 
(An  aviator's  life  is  but  a  secondary  matter.  Lives 
are  easily  replaced  in  war  times  whereas  machines 
are  expensive  articles  to  lose.) 

There  are  eleven  of  us  American  scamps  here  at 
the  school,  several  others  are  training  elsewhere 
and  about  twenty  more  are  on  the  front  and  doubt- 
less you  have  already  heard  and  read  of  their 


EDMOND   GENET  185 

splendid  exploits  around  the  Verdun  battle  front. 
They've  done  wonderful  work.  We're  all  mem- 
bers of  the  Franco-American  Flying  Corps  and  all 
mighty  proud  of  it  too. 

We're  all  looking  hopefully  forward  to  a  glad 
blow-out  over  the  Fourth  of  July  in  gay  Paris. 
We  expect  a  48-hour  leave  for  the  happy  occasion 
and  I'm  saving  up  the  coin  to  get  a  bad  headache 
for  the  Fifth!  Oh  wandering  and  imprudent  youth, 
why  dost  thou  thus  ?  !  !  !  Never  mind,  like  Christ- 
mas, New  Year's,  St.  Patrick's  Day,  Thanksgiving, 
Birthdays  and  all  the  rest,  it  comes  but  once  in 
every  twelve  months,  Sundays  included. 

I've  only  half  smashed  one  machine  so  far  and 
so  have  an  abundance  of  hopes  and  expectations 
for  the  future.  This  is  sure  a  fascinating  life. 

Must  fermer  now  as  the  bugle  just  croaked  for 
hittin'  the  hay.  I  blow  you  a  good-night  kiss, 
Star  dear,  and  you  can't  slap  me  for  it  neither. 
Bon  soir.  Yours  affectionately, 

EDMOND, 
fileve-pilote. 


ficole  d'Aviation  Militaire, 
Buc,  S.  et  O.,  France, 

June  20th,  1916. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Your  letters  of  May  16th,  24th  and  30th  have  all 
come  this  month  and  it's  high  time  I  recompensed 
you  with  an  answer.  The  one  of  Decoration  Day 
came  to-day.  Though  you  will  know  by  now,  you 


186  WAR  LETTERS 

didn't  know,  while  you  were  writing  that,  that  your 
wild  "third"  was  with  Dave  and  Mrs.  W.  that  day 
and  the  next,  seeing  them  for  the  final  time  on  this 
side  of  the  briny  bubbles  and  also  was  on  his  way 
from  being  a  hardened  legionnaire  to  become  a 
merry  aviator.  How  often  you  all  must  wonder — 
"What's  he  into  now!" 

Do  you  realize,  Mother,  that  no  one  over  here 
has  been  told  by  me  of  my  real  method  of  getting 
over  here?  I  may  have  been  very  wrong  in  keep- 
ing all  that  to  ourselves,  in  never  telling  Dave  or 
Capt.  Parker  or  any  of  the  fellows  from  the  States, 
but  I  could  never  decide  convincingly  enough  that 
telling  them  would  help.  No  doubt  in  Dave's 
case  it  would  have — perhaps  in  Capt.  Parker's 
also;  but  I've  only  known  him  since  Easter  time 
when  I  was  introduced  to  him  and  his  wife  by  Mr. 
Wheeler.  Now  Dave  is  in  the  States  and  if  I  do 
tell  him  I  can  only  do  so  by  letter.  Will  that  be 
right  or,  if  you  see  them,  or  Rivers,  would  it  not 
be  better  for  you  or  him  to  tell  them  ?  Every  time 
an  article  comes  out  about  me  such  as  this  last  one 
written  by  Rockwell  (which,  by  the  way,  is  a  sur- 
prise to  me  entirely)  it  simply  cuts  into  me  like  a 
knife,  over  the  fact  that  they  do  believe  I  quit  the 
N.  O.  K.  and  print  it  that  way.  .  .  .  Do  such 
things  go  through  the  Sec'ty  of  State,  which  now  is 
Lansing?  I  believe  they  do.  Is  it  best  to  wait 
until  this  is  all  over  and  I'm  due  to  return  or  have 
gotten  back?  Somehow,  against  lots  of  hard  rea- 
soning, I  can't  believe  that  is  the  best  plan.  "R" 


EDMOND  GENET  187 

won't  be  President  so  there  isn't  that  advantageous 
mark  to  count  on  later.  If  he  was  the  chief  execu- 
tive there  would  be  lots  of  hopes  I  feel  sure.  I'm 
getting  thoroughly  distracted  over  the  whole  affair. 
I  could  get  a  commission  right  now  in  the  Vol. 
forces  of  America  if  it  weren't  for  that.  There  are 
lots  of  things  I  have  been  forced  to  let  go  and  lots 
of  things  I  will  have  to  lose  on  account  of  that. 
That  is  one  of  the  main  reasons  why  I  am  almost 
convinced  the  matter  should  be  taken  up  now. 

Have  you  ever  mentioned  in  your  letters  to  Mrs. 
Wheeler  my  situation?  They've  never  said  any- 
thing to  me  about  it  but  I  thought  perhaps  you  had 
and  they  never  wanted  to  say  anything  to  me  about 
it  as  long  as  I  kept  silent.  I'm  afraid  I  was  blamed 
blue  that  last  Sunday  I  was  with  them,  May  31st. 
Mrs.  W.  noticed  it  and  tried  to  get  the  reason  out  of 
me.  I  think  she  thought  I  was  love-sick  or  some 
such  nonsense  but  I  wasn't.  I  was  feeling  mighty 
miserable  over  that  blamed  secret  and  also  the  fact 
that  I  felt  it  was  the  last  time  I  would  ever  see  them 
clouded  over  my  cheerfulness  considerably.  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  have  felt  that  latter,  but  I  did, 
dear  Mother. 

If  anything  should  happen  to  me  over  here, 
Mother,  it  would  be  so  much  easier  to  meet  if  I 
knew  I  was  O.  K.  with  my  own  loved  country.  I'm 
afraid  that  is  an  impossible  privilege  though.  The 
only  thing  which  ever  impressed  me  about  the 
burial  service  is  the  question,  "Oh  Death,  where 
is  thy  sting?"  I  know  now  that  it  would  hold 


188  WAR  LETTERS 

its  sting  for  me  if  I  met  it  with  that  blot  upon  my 
record. 

The  flying  is  progressing  fairly  well  though  slowly 
on  account  of  a  too  large  class.  It  keeps  us  from 
getting  much  more  than  two  trials  a  day — some- 
times less. 

There's  lots  of  danger  of  being  radiated,  that  is, 
dropped  or  "canned"  from  the  aviation  while  at 
the  schools.  Only  about  40  out  of  every  hundred 
are  allowed  to  go  through — the  very  best,  of  course — 
so  one  has  to  keep  mighty  well  up  to  the  chalk- 
line  and  watch  out  for  accidents,  etc.,  if  he  is  de- 
sirous of  continuing  his  career  as  an  aviator.  I 
most  assuredly  am. 

July  8th,  1916. 

That  was  funny  about  the  missing  first  page  of 
my  letter  for  it  certainly  wasn't  my  fault,  I'm  sure. 
I  can  only  believe  that  when  the  censors  examined  it 
they  must  have  left  out  the  first  sheet  by  accident. 
They  seem  to  keep  whole  letters  from  me  quite  fre- 
quently from  what  I  can  tell.  That's  far  worse. 

The  Fourth  wasn't  as  much  of  a  holiday  for  us 
at  this  school  as  we  expected  it  would  be.  We  were 
only  let  off  from  eight  that  morning  until  working 
time  (4.30)  in  the  afternoon  to  go  into  Paris  to 
attend  the  memorial  service  held  at  the  Amer. 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  for  our  first  Amer. 
aviator  killed  at  the  front,  Victor  Chapman,  of 
whom  you  no  doubt  have  read  in  the  papers  lately. 
The  service  was  short  but  very  nice  and  practically 


EDMOND  GENET  189 

all  the  American  colony  of  Paris  attended.  Also 
most  of  the  aviation  fellows  and  the  Amer.  Ambu- 
lance chaps  were  there  with  the  Ambassador  and 
Consul-General  and  their  respective  staffs.  Fol- 
lowing that  most  of  us  attended  the  usual  4th  of 
July  ceremony  held  at  Lafayette's  grave  in  the 
Picpus  Cemetery.  The  latter  was  very  interesting 
and  impressive  and  the  Speeches  excellent.  Chap- 
man's name  was  linked  with  that  of  Lafayette  and 
the  bond  of  good  feeling  between  the  sister  republics 
was  very  strongly  and  excellently  expressed.  .  .  . 

You  ought  not  to  worry  about  my  forgetting  my 
Church  duties.  I  attended  early  Communion  at 
the  Amer.  Church  the  Sunday  before  last  while  I 
was  in  Paris  and  last  Sunday,  being  the  first 
one  of  the  month,  I  attended  the  regular  morn- 
ing ceremony  and  had  Communion  after.  No, 
dear  Mother,  I'm  not  the  kind  to  stay  away  from 
Church  whenever  I  have  an  opportunity  to  go.  I 
may  even  try  to  go  in  some  Sunday  mornings,  when 
I  can't  get  any  longer  leave,  simply  to  go  to  Church. 
I'd  very  likely  get  permission  for  that  very  easily. 
It's  only  a  short  half -hour's  run  on  the  electric  rail- 
way from  Versailles  (Buc  is  just  a  little  ways  from 
Versailles)  to  Paris,  and  I  can  get  off  at  a  station 
which  is  only  five  minutes'  walk  from  the  church. 

You  can  feel  sure  now,  Mother,  that  whatever 
may  happen  to  me  in  any  way  that  the  Franco- 
Amer.  Flying  Corps  will  take  good  care  of  me  and 
notify  you  immediately.  'Twill  be  far  different 
from  my  being  in  the  Legion  where  you  might  never 


190  WAR  LETTERS 

get  any  news  of  me  at  all.  Dr.  Gros  has  been  most 
friendly  to  me  and  I'm  doing  my  best  to  be  polite 
and  decent  to  him.  He  shook  hands  with  me  at  the 
Church  on  the  morning  of  the  Fourth  and,  because 
I  had  gone  around  to  call  on  him  at  his  residence 
the  preceding  Sunday  (unfortunately  he  was  out  of 
town  then)  to  thank  him  for  helping  me  to  enter 
the  corps,  he  seemed  very  pleased  with  me.  I've 
got  another  very  good  friend  in  Captain  Parker. 
His  wife  is  very  pleasant  also.  She  wanted  me  to 
dine  with  them  at  noon  on  the  Fourth  but  I  had  to 
decline. 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND, 
fileve-aviateur. 

July  18th,  1916. 

If  I  wasn't  so  forgetful  about  birthday  dates  I 
certainly  wouldn't  have  neglected  yours;  but  I  am, 
and  so,  dear  Mother,  you'll  have  to  accept  my  affec- 
tionate wishes  for  many  more  birthdays  to  come 
now  instead  of  when  they  should  have  come — on 
the  25th  or  before. 

Your  letters  reached  me  and  I  waited  to  reply 
only  until  after  I  had  made  my  confession — for 
confession  I  did  make  last  Sunday.  No,  I'm  not  a 
Catholic  now  nor  did  I  confess  to  a  priest.  I'm 
referring  to  the  confession  I  made  to  Capt.  Parker  of 
my  coming  over  here,  etc.,  etc.  I  tried  to  see  him 
twice  during  the  previous  week  by  securing  leave 
to  Paris  and  finally,  after  missing  him  both  times 


EDMOND   GENET  191 

but  seeing  his  wife  the  second  time  (the  Fourteenth, 
which  was  Liberty  Day  in  France)  I  received  an 
invitation  for  dinner  with  them  at  the  Roosevelt 
where  they  live  for  Sunday  noon  and  then  I  did 
see  him  and  made  a  straightforward  and  com- 
plete confession  of  my  wrong-doings.  He  was 
mighty  good  about  it  and  proved  himself  just  the 
good  friend  I  believed  he  was.  He  has  given  me 
excellent  hopes  for  the  future,  Mother  dear,  not 
only  in  being  able  to  clear  myself  and  get  that 
black  blot  erased,  but  for  a  big  chance  in  the  U.  S. 
Aviation  Corps  when  I  get  back.  Capt.  Parker 
assured  me  that  my  clean  record  before  I  came 
over  and  the  bigger  clean  record  I  am  making  while 
here  ought  certainly  to  be  very  much  in  my  favor 
when  the  time  comes  to  clear  up  the  bad  part,  but 
he  advises  that  I  await  all  action  until  I  am  finished 
with  my  service  over  here  and  assures  me  that  if 
I  return  after  two  years'  absence  I  cannot  be  held 
for  punishment.  That  is  vitally  important.  When 
I  get  back  which  will  surely  be  after  Jan.  8,  1917, 
anyway  (that  is  the  2-year  mark)  I  had  best  go 
straight  to  the  N.  Dept.,  give  myself  up,  and  with 
my  continued  clear  record  of  service  clear  myself 
that  way  and  get  reinstated  in  the  service — only 
in  aviation  instead  of  the  former.  Meanwhile 
Capt.  P.  is  writing  to  a  N.  friend  and  indirectly 
getting  advice  from  him  as  to  a  better  or  best  course 
to  pursue.  He  is  being  awfully  fine  to  me  and  in- 
sists that  I  come  to  him  at  all  times  for  advice  and 
help,  take  a  meal  with  them  any  time  I  may  get 


192  WAR  LETTERS 

to  Paris  and  consider  him  my  best  friend  over 
here  which  I  am  only  too  glad  and  grateful  to 
do.  I'm  mighty,  mighty  glad  that  I  did  do  the 
straight  thing  and  went  directly  to  him  with  my 
case.  It  was  a  big  relief  to  get  that  load  off  my 
conscience. 

When  I  first  got  in  last  Sunday  I  went  to  Church, 
and  then  to  see  the  Parkers. 

There  was  an  enormous  and  very  stirring  parade 
in  the  morning  in  which  practically  all  the  Allies 
were  represented  by  their  crack  troops,  but  I 
missed  seeing  it  by  getting  to  Paris  at  noon  after  it 
was  all  over.  The  troops  received  a  tremendous 
ovation,  especially  the  French  (they  always  do)  and 
the  Russians  and  also  the  Scotch  with  their  "piper" 
bands. 

Your  loving  "third," 

EDMOND, 
Etive-aviateur  AmSricain. 


August  9th,  1916. 

I  am  piloting  the  50  h.  p.  Ble riots  still,  but  expect 
to  be  put  on  the  60  h.  p.  ones  either  to-morrow  or 
the  day  following.  The  weather  has  been  excellent 
for  flying  lately  and  I  have  made  short  flights  prac- 
tically at  every  dawn  and  sunset  lately.  As  soon 
as  I  get  on  the  60  h.  p.  machines  and  do  a  few  flights 
with  them  (they  are  not  much  different  from  the 
50  h.  p. — only  a  little  more  powerful)  I  hope  to  do 
the  required  hour  at  2,000  metres  or  over,  and  thus 
get  rid  of  the  first  requirement  for  my  license.  Then 


EDMOND  GENET  193 

I  go  to  the  Caudron  biplanes  and  three  weeks  with 
those  ought  to  fix  me  up  to  do  the  required  three 
triangular  voyages  of  240  kilometres  each.  If  I 
get  through  those  O.  K.  I'll  be  a  full-fledged  military 
pilot  and  you,  dear  Mother,  can  understand  how 
much  that  is  going  to  mean  to  me.  I've  got  a  very 
creditable  record  at  the  school  thus  far,  thanks  to 
the  kindly  Providence,  but  there's  no  telling  whether 
the  good  fortune  will  continue  to  the  end.  I  can 
only  hope  so. 

August  14th,  1916. 

My  last  letter  was  written  on  the  9th  if  I  remem- 
ber rightly.  That  was  last  Wednesday.  We've 
had  quite  a  bit  of  excitement — rather  grim  excite- 
ment— since.  On  Thursday  I  fell  in  a  50  h.  p. 
Bleriot,  smashed  the  machine  into  match-sticks, 
and  got  out  of  it  alive.  They  carried  me  back  to 
the  school  hospital  in  an  auto.  I  had  a  jammed 
left  hip,  a  strained  left  shoulder-blade  and  several 
minor  cuts  on  my  legs.  If  the  life-belt  with  which 
I  was  fortunately  strapped  into  the  machine  hadn't 
held  I  wouldn't  be  writing  this  now.  As  it  was  I 
got  out  all  right  and  only  spent  until  Saturday 
morning  in  the  hospital.  I'm  still  feeling  pains 
around  my  hip,  but  can  walk  almost  as  well  as  nor- 
mally. I  had  just  started  up  for  a  flight  and  the 
motor  went  wrong,  wind  got  under  my  left  wing, 
and  I  turned  around  and  over  on  the  other  one. 
The  machine  was  completely  demolished. 

The  next  day  (Friday)  one  of  us  met  a  far  more 


194  WAR  LETTERS 

serious  fate.  Perhaps  you  will  have  read  all  about 
it  in  the  papers  before  this  reaches  you.  Dennis 
Dowd,  a  fellow  about  29,  who  hails  from  N.  Y.  and 
had  practised  law  there  for  about  two  years  before 
the  war  (he  came  over  here  at  the  outbreak  and 
joined  the  Legion,  changed  to  the  170th  Regiment 
last  Fall  after  the  Champagne  affair  and  was 
wounded  there  soon  after) ,  was  instantly  killed  in  a 
fall  from  about  500  metres  in  a  Caudron  biplane. 
It  is  hard  to  determine  how  it  happened  but  it's 
thought  that  he  must  have  fainted  in  the  machine 
and  thus  lost  all  control.  It  has  upset  us  all  a 
good  deal.  Dowd  was  our  star  man  here,  and  one 
of  the  best  liked.  He  was  within  two  or  three 
weeks  of  finishing  the  course  here  also,  which  makes 
it  worse.  Besides  that,  he  was  engaged  to  a  very 
attractive  girl  residing  near  Paris.  They  were  to 
marry  right  after  the  war. 

To-morrow  morning  we  are  all  to  go  into  Paris 
to  attend  the  funeral  at  the  Amer.  Church.  The 
burial  is  being  deferred  until  his  parents  in  the 
States  communicate  their  wishes  about  where  he  is 
to  be  interred. 

Such  are  the  chances  we  all  take  in  this  game. 
It  seems  such  a  shame  that  Dowd,  who  has  been 
through  so  much  in  this  war,  was  so  anxious  to 
get  to  the  front  with  the  escadrille,  and  would  have 
been  one  of  the  best  pilots  there,  had  to  lose  his  life 
while  in  training  at  a  school.  Any  one  of  us  may 
meet  the  same  fate  though,  dear  Mother.  I  would 
rather  find  mine  at  the  front  while  doing  my  part 


EDMOND  GENET  195 

against  the  enemy.  Who  can  look  into  the  future 
though  ? 

I  went  into  Paris  after  work  yesterday  morning 
and  was  at  the  regular  morning  service  at  the  Amer. 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  Then  I  went  over  to 
the  Amer.  Ambulance  to  see  Joseph  Lydon,  who,  I 
had  heard  a  few  weeks  ago,  had  been  sent  there  to 
have  his  new  leg-stump  placed,  but  they  told  me 
yesterday,  when  I  inquired  to  see  him,  that  he  had 
been  sent  to  St.  Cloud  to  a  hospital  there,  so  I've 
missed  seeing  him  again.  I'm  afraid  St.  Cloud  is 
a  rather  difficult  place  for  me  to  get  to. 

Yesterday  I  bought  ,  for  her  19th  birth- 
day, which  occurred  in  the  last  week  of  July,  a 
little  silk-and-leather  card-case,  with  mirror,  a  place 
for  powder  and  one  for  change.  Don't  you  think 
that  is  a  pretty  serviceable  gift  ?  I  had  her  initials 
put  on  the  outside  also.  The  store  mailed  it  to  her 
for  me. 

I  thought,  from  your  last  letter,  that  Rod.  had 
already  gone  to  the  Texan  border.  He  writes  that 
they  may  be  sent  soon.  I  saw  in  yesterday's  paper 
that  all  the  remaining  militia  of  the  States  has  been 
ordered  to  the  border.  I'm  wondering  if  that 
means  that  both  he  and  Rivers  have  left  for  the 
front. 

One  of  the  fellows  has  just  told  a  very  amusing 
story.  One  of  the  French  fellows  here,  while  on  a 
voyage  with  his  aeroplane,  fell  into  a  tree  top. 
The  machine  was  smashed  up  and  the  pilot  dropped 
out  and  down  into  a  stone  quarry  below.  Some- 


196  WAR  LETTERS 

how  he  caught  his  feet  in  part  of  the  tree,  and  then 
lost  consciousness  for  a  few  minutes,  hanging  there 
head  downward.  When  he  came  to  the  first  thing 
he  heard  was  a  cry  behind  him,  "Don't  move!" 
There  was  a  click  and,  turning  his  head,  he  saw  a 
fellow  behind  him  who  had  just  snapped  his  pic- 
ture. Then  the  photographer  assisted  the  pilot 
to  get  down  safely. 

Your  loving  fils, 

EDMOND, 
fileve-aviateur  AmSricain. 

August  26th,  1916. 

Wednesday's  mail  brought  your  letter  of  the  1st. 
Unless  something  very  unlooked-for  and  unhoped- 
for occurs  within  these  next  two  weeks  this  will  be 
one  of  the  last  letters  you  will  get  from  me  written 
from  this  school,  as  I  am  in  one  of  the  last  classes 
and  nearly  ready  to  do  the  required  feats  of  avia- 
tion to  get  my  military  brevet.  On  last  Tuesday 
morning  I  finished  with  the  Bleriot  monoplanes  by 
doing  a  spiral  and  a  few  other  stunts  which  weren't 
altogether  necessary,  but  which  pleased  the  in- 
structors so  much  with  my  abilities  as  a  pilot  that 
the  Chief  Pilot,  in  placing  me  with  the  Caudron 
biplane  classes,  allowed  me  to  skip  the  first  class, 
in  which  the  pupil  is  taken  up  for  a  few  trips  by  the 
instructor  to  show  him  how  to  pilot  the  machine, 
which  is  heavier  and  much  different  from  the  Bleriot 
monoplane,  and  thus  gets  him  more  accustomed  to 
the  new  machine,  and  let  me  go  up  alone  in  the  60 


EDMOND  GENET  197 

h.  p.  Caudrons  the  first  time  after  explaining  how  it 
worked.  I  did  O.  K.  and  was  advanced  to  the  80 
h.  p.  machines  the  following  day  where  I  am  at 
present,  though  nearly  through.  One  lieutenant 
and  I  were  treated  the  same  and  were  the  first  in 
the  school  to  go  up  alone  for  the  first  time  with  a 
Caudron. 

I  ought  to  be  doing  the  required  spiral  and  hour 
at  2,000  metres  this  next  week  and  then  the  three 
triangular  voyages  of  240  kilometres  each  directly 
afterward  and  thus  end  the  course  at  this  school 
and  be  a  real  pilote  brevete.  Then  I'll  have  a 
couple  of  days  or  so  of  permission  to  Paris  and  then 
go  to  the  next  school  to  become  a  pilot  of  the  ma- 
chine I'll  use  at  the  front — I  expect  and  hope  it  will 
be  a  Nieuport  biplane.  It  is  the  best  of  the  fight- 
ing-machines and  my  record  here  ought  to  warrant 
my  becoming  a  pilot  of  that  particular  machine,  as 
all  the  best  pilots  can  become  Nieuport  pilots  and 
my  record  is  mighty  good  here  thus  far.  A  lot  of 
the  Americans  who  are  here  could  not  pilot  the 
Bleriot  monoplanes,  and  thus  won't  have  the  same 
chance  I  have  ahead  of  me  unless  they  make  very 
good  later. 

If  the  wind  goes  down  soon  we'll  fly  this  after- 
noon so  I  must  close  and  get  ready.  I  hope  I'll 
be  through  here  at  Buc  in  a  couple  of  weeks.  Love 
and  best  wishes  to  you  and  all. 


198  WAR  LETTERS 

Roosevelt  Hotel, 

Paris, 
Sept.  6th,  1916. 

Your  eminent  "third"  is  a  full-fledged  French 
aviator  and  also  a  member  of  the  French  Aero  Club 
— likewise  by  Saturday  he  expects  to  be  a  corporal 
and  is  feeling  pretty  joyful  over  the  record  he  made 
out  at  Buc.  Major  Parker,  who  is  acting  as  my 
delightful  host  while  I  am  spending  these  four  days 
of  leave  (Tues.  to  Sat.  A.  M.)  has  written  to  you  and 
told  you  something  about  my  record  at  the  school 
and  the  regard  the  officers  there  hold  for  me,  so 
'tis  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  go  into  any  further 
details.  Besides  I  am  hurried  this  morning  as  I 
want  to  get  out  to  Buc  for  a  few  hours  to  get  some 
information  for  the  major. 

Three  very  acceptable  letters  of  yours  are  before 
me,  but  I  shall  answer  them  fully  in  a  day  or  so— 
possibly  not  until  I  get  to  the  next  school  which  is 
to  be  the  Nieuport  school  at  Avord. 

Yesterday  Mr.  Grundy,  of  the  N.  Y.  Sun,  took 
Paul  Rockwell  and  me  to  a  dinner,  held  in  commem- 
oration of  the  battle  of  the  Marne,  by  the  Associ- 
ated English  and  French  Press.  One  of  the  generals 
(Malleterre)  who  fought  at  the  Marne  (he  lost  a 
whole  right  leg  there  and  got  a  smashed  arm)  spoke 
and  was  extremely  interesting. 

My  leave  is  up  on  Sat.  A.  M.  I  go  back  to  Buc 
to  get  paid  off  and j  signed  off,  etc.,  etc.,  and  then 
leave  for  Avord. 

Boasting  isn't  my  line,  Mother,  but  I  can't  re- 


EDMOND  GENET  199 

frain  from  saying  that  I  made  one  of  the  best  re- 
cords as  a  pupil  at  Buc  that  has  been  made.     The 
Capt.  told  me  I  could  be  put  down  as  a  mighty  good 
model  for  the  rest  of  my  Amer.  comrades  there. 
Oceans  of  love  from 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND, 
Aviateur  AmGricain. 


Roosevelt  Hotel, 

Paris, 
September  7th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

The  next  time  you  write  after  getting  this 
scribbled  note  (which,  by  the  way,  should  be 
mighty  soon  after)  you  mustn't  put  "eleve"  be- 
fore the  aviateur  Americain  and  you  can  put  "cor- 
poral" in  its  place.  I  joyfully  passed  the  require- 
ments for  the  military  license  and  became  a  genuine 
aviator  of  the  Franco-American  Escadrille  last 
Sunday.  I'm  likewise  a  member  of  the  Aero  Club 
de  France  and  rank  as  corporal.  Some  start. 
Mom  will  most  likely  send  you  the  letters  Major 
Parker,  with  whom  I  am  staying  for  these  days  of 
leave  (4),  kindly  wrote  her  telling  her  how  well  I 
did  at  Buc  and  what  the  officers  there  think  of  me. 
That  will  be  sufficient  to  convince  you  all  of  my 
seriousness  in  this  game.  The  end  of  this  week  I 
go  to  Avord  to  begin  to  pilot  the  famous  little 
fighting-machine,  the  Nieuport.  I'll  be  there  at 
least  a  month.  The  game  is  just  starting  on  its 


200  WAR  LETTERS 

most  interesting  phase  now  and  I'm  past  being  a 
"rookie." 

If  you  have  any  intentions  of  running  over  here 
for  a  visit  please  let  me  know  beforehand.  I'm 
afraid  a  passport  is  a  blamed  difficult  document  to 
obtain  in  these  times  unless  there's  a  very  excellent 
reason  given.  Believe  me,  dear  brother,  I  sure 
would  love  to  see  you. 

Division  Nieuport, 

ficole  d'Aviation  Militaire, 

Pau,  Pyrenees,  France. 

September  12,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Instead  of  going  to  Avord  as  I  said  I  would  in 
my  letter  from  Paris  last  week  I  found  out  that  the 
Pau  school  was  much  better  than  the  one  at  Avord, 
so,  with  Major  Parker,  I  went  to  see  the  Colonel 
in  Paris  and  got  permission  from  him  to  go  to  Pau 
instead.  Yesterday  I  arrived  after  an  all-night 
train  ride  from  Paris  via  Bordeaux  and  now  I  am 
pretty  well  settled  and  expect  to  begin  work  this 
afternoon  if  the  weather,  which  is  very  rainy-look- 
ing at  present,  permits.  I  stayed  with  the  Major 
at  the  Roosevelt  over  Saturday  night,  after  leav- 
ing Buc  that  afternoon,  and  also  until  late  Sunday 
afternoon.  My  train  left  at  6  o'clock.  Sunday 
morning  Mrs.  Parker  went  with  me  to  the  11 
o'clock  service  at  the  American  Church.  She 
asked  me  for  your  address  and  said  she  would 
write  to  you  to  tell  you  what  a  bad,  bad  son  you 
have  over  here.  She  is  lovely,  Mother,  and  both 


EDMOND  GENET  201 

she  and  the  Major  are  being  mighty  good  to  me. 
The  Major  insisted  that  I  come  to  stay  there  with 
them  every  permission  I  may  get  to  go  to  Paris 
and  let  them  do  anything  for  me  which  I  may 
desire.  I  surely  have  been  blessed  with  friends 
ever  since  I  landed  in  this  country. 

The  country  around  here  is  very  picturesque, 
although  yesterday  and  to-day  have  been  so  cloudy 
and  rainy  that  I  really  haven't  yet  seen  it  to  its 
best  advantage.  On  clear  days  they  tell  me  the 
Pyrenees,  at  whose  base  this  country  is  situated, 
are  very  plainly  seen.  We  are  in  a  big,  broad  val- 
ley, but  the  foothills  of  the  Pyrenees  are  just  south 
of  us  and  their  wooded  slopes  look  very  enticing. 
I  am  going  to  try  to  get  over  to  them  on  foot  or 
bicycle,  and  anyway,  I  shall  see  them  pretty 
plainly  when  on  flights.  The  aviation  school  is 
fully  8  miles  from  the  town  of  Pau  (Pau  is  quite  a 
large  place)  and  a  little  narrow-gauge  railway  con- 
nects the  two  places.  The  school  is  spread  out 
quite  a  bit  and  divided  into  three  or  four  different 
divisions.  The  main  part  is  the  Ecole  de  Combat 
where  I  shall  finish  up  before  going  to  the  front. 
Now  I  am  in  the  Nieuport  Division  where  the 
pupil  first  learns  to  pilot  a  Nieuport,  the  little 
avion  de  chasse  which  we  pilot  at  the  front  later  on. 

Our  quarters  are  just  as  comfortable  as  those 
which  we  had  at  Buc — wooden  barracks  which  are 
very  well  made,  and  we  sleep  in  good  iron  beds  and 
have  a  mattress,  two  warm  blankets,  two  sheets 
and  a  pillow.  How  is  that  for  army  life !  I  eat 


202 


WAR  LETTERS 


at  a  little  restaurant  near  the  camp.  My  pay  is 
a  little  over  forty  cents  a  day. 

While  I  was  in  Paris  on  leave  last  week  I  had 
some  very  good  photographs  taken  and  will  mail 
one  to  you  just  as  soon  as  I  get  a  supply  of  stamps 
of  which  I  am  lacking  just  at  the  present  moment. 

German  prisoners  of  war  do  a  great  deal  of  work 
about  the  camp  here,  and  I  was  rather  amused  at 
a  sign  on  a  pump  this  morning  where  the  water 
was  drinkable.  There  was  the  French  notice  and 
then  below  was  one  in  German — like  this: 


Eau 
bonne  a  boire 

Drinkwasser 


The  German  prisoners  all  seem  pretty  well  satis- 
fied to  be  on  this  side  of  the  lines.  They  don't 
speak  very  heartily  of  their  officers  and  their  man- 
ner of  treatment  either. 

As  soon  as  I  become  perfect  as  a  pilot  of  the  Nieu- 
port  I'll  be  sent  to  a  rapid-fire  gun  school  not  far 
from  here  to  learn  how  to  handle  and  shoot  one. 
Then  I  return  here  to  the  School  of  Combat  to 
"perfectionate"  on  the  Nieuport  and  learn  aerial 
tactics  for  fighting  the  Boches'  machines.  Then  I'll 
do  the  loop-the-loop,  vertical  dives,  the  corkscrew 
drop,  which  looks  as  if  the  machine  was  whirling 
earthward  completely  out  of  control,  fly  upside 


EDMOND  GENET  203 

down  and  vertically  and  all  sorts  of  other  aerial 
stunts.  If  I  don't  kill  myself  I'll  be  a  thorough 
aviator  and  fit  for  the  front.  Three  American  fel- 
lows are  just  finishing  that  part  this  week  and  will 
soon  go  to  the  front  to  join  the  others  there.  I 
hope  I  can  get  there  myself  within  three  months. 

Best  love  and  wishes  to  you  and  all,  dear  little 
Mother  mine.  Take  the  best  care  of  yourself 
possible. 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND, 
Pilote-aviateur. 


Roosevelt  Hotel, 

63,  Avenue  d'lena, 

Paris. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GENET, 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  your  son  has  been 
making  a  fine  record  for  himself  as  a  soldier  over 
here. 

His  record  in  the  Foreign  Legion  was  excellent 
and  now  he  has  just  passed  his  examination  as  an 
aviator-pilot  and  his  officers  speak  highly  of  him. 
My  wife  and  I  have  taken  him  under  our  wing,  and 
I  hope  to  see  him  rehabilitate  himself  by  his  good 
work  here  in  France. 

You  may  count  upon  our  looking  after  him. 
Very  faithfully  yours, 

FRANK  PARKER 

(Major  U.  S.  Cavalry, 

Observer  with  the  French  Armies). 


204  WAR  LETTERS 

Division  Nieuport, 
ficole  d'Aviation  Militaire, 
Pau,  Basses-Pyrenees,  France. 

September  20th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

My  last  letter  was  written  to  you  on  the  twelfth 
and  I  remember  I  promised  then  to  send  you  the 
picture  which  I  had  had  taken  in  Paris  just  as  soon 
as  I  got  into  Pau  to  buy  stamps.  I  went  in  on 
Friday  last  and  mailed  the  picture  after  which  I 
wandered  around  the  town  to  see  what  it  is  like. 
Not  only  is  it  much  larger  than  I  thought,  but  it's 
decidedly  a  very  attractive  place  and  extremely 
well  kept  and  modern,  with  city-like  stores  and 
good  hotels.  I  was  quite  surprised  to  find  it  so 
up  to  date.  The  principal  church  is  a  beautiful 
structure  which  in  design  gives  one  the  impres- 
sion of  the  famous  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  but  this 
edifice,  of  course,  is  much  smaller  and  less  imposing 
than  the  great  cathedral  which  awes  all  travellers 
to  the  French  capital.  Another  chief  feature  of 
Pau  is  the  royal  palace,  a  part  of  which  now  holds 
the  biggest  hotel,  l'H6tel  de  France,  and  this  is  a 
very  striking  building  with  beautiful  gardens  and 
fountains  and  a  magnificent  view  to  the  southward 
where  rise  the  lofty  Pyrenees  between  France  and 
Spain.  Bears  must  be  plentiful  through  these 
ranges  because  in  to-day's  paper  I  read  of  them 
coming  down  very  much  below  their  usual  haunts 
and  causing  trouble  among  the  sheep  on  the  lower 
slopes  around  here.  Just  at  sunrise  is  when  the 
mountains  seem  most  beautiful.  They  seem  very 
rugged  and  impressive  from  here. 


EDMOND  GENET  205 

This  morning's  mail  brought  me  your  welcome 
letter  of  August  24th.  I've  had  very  few  letters 
from  the  States  lately  for  some  reason. 

My  flying  began  here  on  the  afternoon  of  last 
Wednesday  when  I  started  on  the  60  h.  p.  Bleriot. 
I  only  had  a  few  flights  on  that  and  was  put  on  the 
Morane  monoplane  which  I  flew  only  four  times 
and  went  so  well  that  they  pushed  me  along  to  the 
Nieuport  which  I  commenced  to  fly  last  Saturday 
with  poor  luck  that  day  as  I  turned  one  machine 
completely  over  on  its  back  on  the  ground  in  the 
afternoon.  I  smashed  the  machine  rather  badly, 
but  got  out  O.  K.  myself.  Since  then  I  have  had 
better  success  and  hope  to  be  fairly  expert  by  the 
first  of  the  month.  This  morning  under  bad 
weather  conditions  I  made  seven  flights  with  fairly 
decent  results.  Although  the  Nieuport  is  con- 
sidered the  best  machine  to  fly  it  is,  in  fact,  one 
of  the  most  difficult  in  many  ways  inasmuch  as 
there  are  innumerable  little  tricks  to  learn  before 
one  can  pilot  it  in  the  correct  style.  It  is  very 
difficult  to  land  with,  for  with  the  least  mistake  it 
will  turn  right  over — nose  first.  So  far  I  like  the 
little  Morane  monoplane-biplace  with  an  80  or 
110  horse-power  Blerget  rotary  motor,  the  best  of 
all  the  machines  I've  piloted.  It  is  very  unsafe, 
though,  in  bad  weather,  and  difficult  to  manage 
in  any  sort  of  a  bad  wind. 

How  characteristically  thoughtful  and  dear  of 
you,  little  Mother,  to  think  of  your  poor  far-away 
"third"  when  you  came  across  that  diamond  of  the 
Citizen !  Thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  I  appre- 


206  WAR  LETTERS 

ciate  immensely  the  possession  of  such  a  treasure- 
able  relic  of  the  Citizen.  I  only  wish  I  could  be 
certain  that  the  time  isn't  far  off  when  I  can  place 
it  on  the  right  girl's  finger,  but  it  looks  mighty  far 
off  just  now.  I  wonder  if  the  old  Citizen  would  be 
appreciative  of  the  fact  that  his  namesake,  fighting 
for  his  own  loved  country  about  135  years  after  he 
came  to  ours,  is  possessor  of  his  ring  ?  Perhaps  he 
would.  History  has  wrought  a  very  strange  coin- 
cidence. 

Don't  be  startled  over  the  following  bit  of  in- 
formation because  thus  far  it  isn't  at  all  certain  of 
materialization  and  even  should  it  materialize  it 
isn't  such  a  dreadful  matter  anyway.  Last  week 
there  came  a  request  from  the  Minister  of  War  for 
volunteer  pilots  to  go  to  Roumania  to  fly  there  un- 
der the  French  Aerial  Corps,  but  to  aid  the  Rouma- 
nian army.  I  thought  it  all  out  from  every  possible 
view-point  of  which  I  could  think  and  decided  that 
it  was  a  pretty  good  chance,  and  so  volunteered. 
It  is  still  too  early  a  date  since  to  expect  any  re- 
sponse but  the  chances  are  I  won't  be  accepted  be- 
cause I  still  have  over  a  month  of  training  before 
me — nearly  two.  At  any  rate  if  I  am  accepted 
and  sent  as  soon  as  my  training  is  complete,  which 
ought  to  be  along  in  the  middle  of  November,  I 
shall  have  the  privilege  of  having  a  winter  of  active 
service  there,  which  I  might  not  have  over  on  the 
front  because  I  might  be  held  in  lazy  reserve  all 
winter  in  the  rear  on  account  of  inactivity  on  the 
front  during  the  cold  weather.  Also  the  chances 


EDMOND  GENET  207 

of  promotion  are  very  likely  quicker  and  better 
in  service  in  a  foreign  country.  That  certainly 
proved  to  be  so  for  the  French  Aviators  who  went 
to  fly  on  the  Russian  front.  They  received  all 
kinds  of  honors  and  decorations,  etc.  The  mere 
fact  of  flying  for  two  countries  at  the  same  time  is 
enough  to  warrant  double  chances  of  promotion 
and  decoration,  and  down  in  the  Balkans  all  the 
Allied  forces  are  at  work  together.  There  is,  too, 
the  big  probability  of  Austria  and  Bulgaria  being 
completely  crushed  by  next  Spring  and  then  I'll 
have  all  that  experience  to  back  me  up  and  the 
choice  of  coming  back  to  fly  on  this  front  or  of 
going  to  the  Russian  one  for  the  great  final  setting 
toward  the  fall  of  Germany  and  the  end  of  the  whole 
blamed  conflict.  I  most  likely  would  prefer  to 
return  to  this  front  for  the  final  clash.  Last,  but 
not  least,  is  the  chance  of  an  interesting  and  per- 
haps even  an  exciting  trip  to  Roumania  and  the 
opportunity  to  study  the  war  as  it  is  down  there 
and  pick  up  a  smattering  of  one  or  two  of  those 
languages  down  in  those  heated  regions  where 
blood  seems  to  flow  thicker  than  water.  The 
trip  would  have  to  be  via  Russia  (reached  by  water 
through  the  Baltic  Sea)  over  Russia  via  rail  to 
Odessa  and  thence  by  vessel  to  Roumania — a  rather 
lengthy  and  sure-to-be-interesting  trip  in  such  times 
as  these.  There's  nothing  like  seeing  all  of  the 
world  possible  sans  expense  and  that  is  only  one  of 
the  minor  reasons  why  I  would  like  to  be  chosen  to 
go.  Do  you  blame  me  for  volunteering  now,  dear 


208  WAR  LETTERS 

little  Mother  ?  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  anyway. 
Probably  by  the  time  I  write  you  next  I  shall  know 
for  a  surety  whether  the  War  Dept.  will  accept  my 
good  offers  or  not.  I  only  hope  they  do. 

The  enclosed  article  I  think  will  interest  you  as 
well  as  inform  you  of  the  reason  I  have  that  cord 
under  my  shoulder  in  the  photograph.  It  is  the 
"fourragere"  which  we  of  the  1st  Regiment  of  the 
Legion  won  last  September  at  Champagne.  I 
could  have  worn  it  ever  since  then,  but  only  got  one 
this  last  time  I  was  in  Paris  and  put  it  on. 

Best  wishes  to  all  and  every  kind  of  love  to  "ma 
belle  mere"  de 

Son  aviateur  fils, 

EDMOND, 
Pilote-aviateur. 

September  26th,  1916. 

Your  three  letters  (Aug.  29th  and  31st  and  Sept. 
8th)  have  lately  reached  me — the  last  to-day.  To- 
day's mail  has  brought  also  the  book  "The  Note- 
book of  an  Attache"  from  Cousin  Eleanor  Cresson 
which  you  wrote  of  and  I  am  indeed  thankful  and 
delighted  to  have  it.  I  had  heard  quite  a  good 
deal  about  it  and  have  wanted  very  much  to  read 
it.  It  surely  is  a  very  good  description  of  the  early 
days  of  the  war  and  extremely  well  written.  I've 
already  gone  through  the  first  chapter  this  noon. 

My  last  to  you  was  written  on  the  20th.  Thus 
far  no  response  has  come  in  regard  to  Roumania 
and  I  expect  I  shall  have  to  wait  until  well  into  next 


EDMOND  GENET  209 

month  to  learn  my  fate  about  that.  Major  Parker 
has  written  to  me  and  said  he  thought  my  reasons 
for  going  seemed  sound  and  if  I  go  he  will  make  it 
a  point  to  present  me  to  the  Roumanian  Attache 
at  Paris.  I  might  be  fortunate  enough  to  receive  a 
letter  of  introduction  from  the  attache  to  some  of 
the  high  authorities  in  R.  and  thus  boost  me  a 
little  that  way. 

As  you  perhaps  already  know  from  accounts 
which  already  must  be  in  the  papers  in  the  States 
another  one  of  our  brave  aviators  has  been  killed 
at  the  front.  One  of  the  very  best  of  them  too. 
Paul  Rockwell's  brother,  Kiffin,  has  gone  this  time, 
— brought  down  in  an  aerial  duel.  Thus  it  is  and 
will  be  right  along  with  all  the  best  ones — those 
who  really  do  the  biggest  amount  of  the  fighting. 
We  can't  help  but  predict  which  ones  will  be  killed. 
This  game  is  only  that  of  get  or  be  gotten  and  those 
who  go  right  into  the  fray  to  get  are  almost  sure  to 
be  killed  sooner  or  later.  I'm  not  going  to  be  any 
shirker,  dear  little  Mother,  even  if  it  is  sure  to  mean 
what  it  has  meant  to  Chapman  and  Rockwell. 

I  am  expecting  to  go  to  the  machine-gun  school 
at  Cazaux  on  the  3d  with  the  detachment  leaving 
here  for  that  place  then.  I  doubt  if  I  get  a  per- 
mission to  go  to  Paris  before  then,  but  intend  to 
try  for  one  after  finishing  at  Cazaux  before  return- 
ing here  for  the  Ecole  de  Combat. 

Just  a  year  ago  yesterday  we  began  the  battle  of 
Champagne.  It  all  comes  back  fresh  in  my 
memory  like  a  long  horrible  nightmare — each  day 


210  '  WAR  LETTERS 

an  added  horror.  This  Thursday  afternoon  (the 
28th)  will  mark  the  anniversary  of  that  attack  we 
made  through  those  woods  in  which  ^  of  our  com- 
pany was  wiped  out — and  your  wandering  "third" 
was  unfortunately  reported  "killed  or  missing." 
It  seems  but  yesterday  instead  of  a  whole  year  ago. 

The  Committee  of  the  Franco-American  Corps 
has  sanctioned  my  volunteering  to  go  to  Roumania 
and,  if  I  go,  agrees  to  give  me  5  months'  allowance 
in  advance  as  payments  monthly  will  necessarily 
be  out  of  the  question  once  I  get  down  there.  In- 
cluding my  government  pay  I  am  getting  about 
46  dollars  a  month  now  as  I  get  150  francs  (about 
30  dollars)  a  month  to  eat.  With  shoes  and  clothes 
and  other  necessities  and  occasional  extra  feed  bills, 
travelling,  etc.,  the  rest  all  seems  to  go  quickly. 
As  soon  as  my  corporal  papers  go  through,  which 
ought  to  be  within  a  week,  I'll  be  getting  4  cents  a 
day  extra.  I'll  be  a  corporal  by  the  time  this 
reaches  you. 

I  shall  write  to  Cousin  Eleanor  in  a  day  or  so 
and  express  my  grateful  appreciation  for  the  book. 
I'm  surely  not  going  to  do  more  than  lend  it  to 
any  friends  as  I  want  to  hang  on  to  such  a  treasure. 
Part  of  it  was  still  unwritten  when  I  landed  on 
these  shores.  The  next  time  I  go  to  Paris  I'll  leave 
it  with  Mrs.  Parker  to  keep  for  me.  She  may  not 
have  read  it. 

When  I  get  to  Cazaux  I'll  write  and  tell  you  all 
about  it.  I  understand  it  is  a  very  interesting 
place — on  a  big  lake  on  which  we  practise  with 


EDMOND  GENET 

machine-guns    mounted    in    hydroaeroplanes    and 
fast  motor-boats — using  small  balloons  for  targets. 
All  love  and  warmest  wishes  from 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 
Aviateur. 


ficole  de  TIr  Aerien, 
Cazaux,  Gironde,  France. 

October  10th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

It  has  made  me  very,  very  glad  over  my  success 
at  making  a  good  record  at  Buc  and  at  Pan  just 
because  I  know  how  happy  it  has  made  you.  I'm 
trying  my  best  to  bring  out  the  best  possible  efforts 
and  results,  and  thus  far  the  latter  have  shown 
that  I've  succeeded  pretty  well.  After  all  it  hasn't 
cost  me  much  effort. 

The  Captain  here  very  kindly  granted  us  four 
Americans  leave  to  go  to  Bordeaux  over  last  Satur- 
day night  and  Sunday.  There  are  two  other 
Americans  here  with  whom  I  was  at  Buc  and  who 
went  to  Avord  while  I  was  at  Pau.  The  third 
is  a  pleasant  chap  from  Argentina,  S.  A.,  who  is 
a  volunteer  and  as  he  speaks  English  fluently  he 
is  with  us.  We  have  been  enormously  favored  by 
the  Captain  here.  He  has  placed  us  together  in  a 
group  by  ourselves  under  an  extremely  pleasant 
young  French  adjutant  who  speaks  English  and 
thus  we  learn  better.  Also,  instead  of  living  in  the 
usual  barracks  of  the  pilots  we  have  the  privilege 


WAR  LETTERS 

of  two  rooms  used  generally  for  officers'  quarters 
and  in  the  officers'  barracks.  Two  of  us  are  to- 
gether in  a  room.  It's  the  best  treatment  we've 
had  yet  in  the  service. 

Instead  of  remaining  at  Bordeaux  over  Sunday  I 
went  to  Arcachon,  a  delightful  seaside  resort  very 
near  here  situated  on  a  large  bay.  It  is  rather  late 
in  the  season,  but  the  days  are  still  warm  and  many 
people  were  out  on  Sunday.  I  went  in  swimming 
the  preceding  Monday — the  day  I  came  here  from 
Pau  (work  here  not  beginning  until  Wednesday, 
there  was  no  reason  for  staying  all  that  day)— 
and  I  found  the  water  delightful  but  quite  cool.  I 
only  stayed  in  a  half -hour.  I'm  enclosing  a  postal 
or  so  of  the  place.  When  I  got  back  here  Sunday 
night  I  found  a  pile  of  letters.  .  .  . 

My  last  letter  to  you  I  guess  was  written  before 
I  left  the  Nieuport  Division  at  Pau.  I  did  mighty 
well  and  very  quick  work  there — finishing  in  about 
18  days.  A  detachment  of  us  was  sent  here  on  the 
30th  and  as  that  was  a  Saturday  we  all  entered  here 
on  Monday.  I  was  in  Bordeaux  on  that  Sunday 
and  strolled  around  the  town.  It  isn't  a  very  strik- 
ing place  but  contains  some  mighty  pretty  buildings 
and  columns. 

Yesterday  I  had  a  big  surprise.  Major  Parker 
came  all  the  way  down  from  Paris  and  arrived  here 
about  noon.  He  got  permission  from  the  Colonel 
at  Paris  who  has  charge  of  the  aerial  schools  to 
come  here.  The  Captain  had  him  for  luncheon 
and  took  him  all  around  the  school  during  the  after- 


EDMOND  GENET  213 

noon  and  I  was  with  them.  The  Major  said  he  and 
Mrs.  Parker  were  very,  very  pleased  with  your 
letter.  They  both  are  being  altogether  lovely  to 
me.  The  Major  is  quite  sure  he  can  get  me  off  to 
Roumania  or  to  this  front  as  soon  as  I  am  through 
training  and  thus  save  me  waiting  in  reserve  for 
several  months.  My  previous  time  at  the  front 
ought  to  help  me  in  that  as  well.  I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  being  held  in  reserve  all  or  nearly  all  this 
winter. 

Possibly  you  don't  know  where  Cazaux  is.  It  is 
on  a  large  lake,  about  9  miles  square,  situated  just 
off  the  coast  S.  W.  of  Bordeaux.  The  lake  is 
called  Cazaux  Lake.  The  school  is  on  the  eastern 
side  and  is  very  comfortable  barracks.  There  are 
a  great  many  here  who  have  nothing  to  do  with 
aerial  fighting — machine-gun  men  of  infantry  and 
there  are  also  machine-gun  men  for  aeroplanes  who 
are  not  pilots.  We  pilots  are  here  to  learn  to  shoot 
machine-guns  simply  because  we  are  to  fly  one-place 
aeroplanes  where  we  shall  have  to  do  everything 
ourselves — pilot  and  shoot  at  the  same  time.  Here 
we  practise  from  hydroaeroplanes,  motor-boats 
and  on  ranges  on  land.  It's  all  mighty  interesting 
indeed.  This  is  the  only  school  in  the  world  where 
hydroaeroplanes  are  used  in  machine-gun  practice. 

The  Franco-American  will  surely  help  any  of  us 
who  need  assistance  to  get  back  to  the  States. 
The  corps  will  most  likely  more  than  help  us  back. 
You  see  if  I  have  any  success  at  the  front  in  bring- 
ing down  enemy  machines  I'll  get  about  $200  for 


214  WAR  LETTERS 

every  one  I  bring  down — possibly  more  as  the  F.  A. 
pays  each  pilot  so  much  for  every  medal  received 
and  it  adds  up  to  quite  a  bit. 

For  the  past  month  I've  been  worrying  a  mighty 
big  lot  over  -  — .  No  letter  has  come  and  I  can't 
imagine  what  is  the  matter.  I'm  looking  and  hop- 
ing for  a  letter  from  her  every  single  day.  It's  be- 
ginning to  look  hopeless.  .  .  . 

I  haven't  a  lot  of  time  here  for  letters.  I've  been 
writing  this  at  odd  moments  right  along  to-day.  I 
owe  about  twenty  letters  now  and  some  of  them  for 
weeks  past  too. 

Do  you  know  that  the  Captain  Parker  of  whom 
Eric  Wood  writes  in  that  book  as  being  one  of  the 
military  attaches  to  the  Embassy  is  the  very  Major 
Parker  I  know?  It  is  and  he  has  told  me  a  lot 
about  their  experiences  during  those  first  few 
months  of  the  conflict.  It  was  Major  Parker  who 
first  had  charge  of  the  destitute  Germans  and 
Austrians  in  France  at  the  opening  of  the  war,  and 
he  was  the  one  who  got  Eric  Fisher  Wood  his  posi- 
tion as  attache  at  the  Embassy  when  he  found  what 
a  bright,  clever  fellow  Wood  was.  The  fellow  Hall 
who  drove  them  on  that  trip  after  the  Battle  of  the 
Marne  in  his  own  car  is  now  a  Captain  in  the  British 
army  in  France  and  I  dined  with  Hall's  father  and 
mother  with  the  Parkers  in  the  Roosevelt  in  July. 
It  is  all  a  long  string  of  strange  circumstances  which 
will  lead  up  to  what !  God  knows ! 


EDMOND   GENET  215 

ficole  de  Tir  Aerien, 

Cazaux,  Gironde,  France. 

October  12th,  1916. 

MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

This  is  an  interesting  place.  We  practise  firing 
from  motor-boats  at  small  rubber-ball  balloons 
floating  in  a  line  along  the  water,  at  ranges  of  from 
200  to  800  yards,  from  hydroaeroplanes  using  sil- 
houette targets  of  aeroplanes  floating  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  lake  and  floating  balloons  (balls)  in  the 
air  and  there's  a  range  for  machine-guns  on  the 
shore  with  the  lake  as  the  firing-range.  The  tar- 
gets in  this  case  are  also  lines  of  small  balloons  at 
various  distances.  The  shooting  from  the  hydros 
is  the  most  fun.  This  morning  I  tried  shooting  at 
the  floating  balloons,  sent  up  from  a  small  boat 
on  the  lake,  for  the  first  time  and  hit  four  balloons 
out  of  only  5  shots  fired.  We  circled  around  until 
the  balloon  was  in  front  or  nearly  so  and  then  I 
had  to  shoot  darned  quick  and  judge  distance 
and  speed  mighty  rapidly  to  hit  the  blamed  thing 
at  all.  We  were  flying  at  about  100  kilometres  an 
hour.  Some  sport! 

That  surely  was  excellent  shooting  and  a  big 
credit  for  the  "8th"  and  the  Battalion. 

If  only  you  and  Mother  could  have  come  over 
here  this  fall  I  certainly  would  have  been  im- 
mensely happy  but  it  would  have  meant  quite  a 
sum  to  you  and  I  guess  it's  better  to  wait  until 
you  are  better  off.  Possibly  next  Spring  I  may  be 
back  from  Roumania  (if  I  go  down  there)  or  else 


216  WAR  LETTERS 

here  anyway  and  April  and  May  are  the  best 
months  to  be  in  Paris.  Possibly  I  can  get  a  few 
weeks  off  and  run  over  there.  Some  of  the  fellows 
have  done  that  already — those  who  have  been  at  the 
front  and  it  is  possible  to  get  the  leave  I  know. 
I've  been  planning  sort  of  vaguely  in  my  mind  to 
do  that  if  possible  next  May  or  June.  That's  look- 
ing ahead  a  bit  too  previously  though.  There's 
too  much  that  can  spoil  such  pleasant  hopes  be- 
tween times. 

In  order  to  facilitate  matters,  Rivers,  I  am  going 
to  give  Major  Parker's  name  as  the  person  to  whom 
the  authorities  may  send  notice  in  case  of  anything 
serious  happening  to  me.  I  have  given  Mother's 
name  up  to  now  but  believe  it  would  be  quicker  and 
easier  if  I  give  the  name  of  one  on  this  side.  Major 
Parker  and  his  wife  will  gladly  do  this  for  me,  I 
know,  and  should  anything  happen  will  readily 
notify  you  and  Mother  immediately.  Please  for- 
give me  if  I  keep  speaking  of  such  things  but  I 
believe  in  being  prepared  as  best  as  is  possible  for 
everything  which  may  occur.  Should  I  be  killed 
and  my  remains  recovered  there  is  no  use  in  think- 
ing of  my  being  buried  anywhere  but  in  France 
while  the  war  is  going  on.  Some  day,  afterward, 
though,  when  you  are  able,  I  would  like  to  be  re- 
moved to  my  own  beloved  land.  Remember  that 
I  gave  my  life  for  France  though,  dear  brother,  and 
keep  the  French  colors  over  my  grave  as  well  as  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  Please  don't  think  I  am  pessi- 
mistic for  having  written  all  that.  One  has  to 


EDMOND  GENET  217 

prepare  for  death  in  war- time  and  I  haven't  much  to 
ask  after  all,  have  I  ? 

I  sent  you  a  photo  I  had  taken  while  in  Paris 
in  early  September  which  I  hope  reaches  you  all 
right.  I  wish  I  had  photos  of  you  and  Mother  and 
Rod — late  snapshots  would  be  more  preferable — 
but  I  haven't.  Haven't  you  one  you  could  send 
me? 

When  you  write  again  address  to 

Division  de  Combat  Aerien, 

Ecole  d'Aviation  Militaire,  ficole  de  Tir  Aerien, 

Pau,  Basses-Pyrenees,  France          Cazaux,  Gironde,  France, 

(that's  my  next  stop).  October  22nd,  1916. 

DEAR  ROD, 

This  is  my  final  week  here  and  I  feel  highly  con- 
tented over  the  fact.  The  place  is  very  interesting, 
but  not  enough  to  last  through  three  or  four  solid 
weeks.  I've  been  here  ever  since  the  beginning  of 
the  month  and  when  I  arrived  I  understood  it  was 
to  be  for  only  two  weeks.  Considering  that  I  took 
but  a  bare  eighteen  days  in  which  to  perfect  myself 
in  piloting  the  little  Nieuport  at  Pau  last  month  I 
have  felt  it  rather  an  unnecessarily  long  time  here 
to  learn  three  or  four  mitrailleuses  (machine-guns) 
and  practise  shooting  them.  I'm  sure,  though, 
that  the  target  practice  has  done  me  good  and  if 
I'm  not  a  crack  marksman  I  think  I  can  at  least 
hold  my  own  against  the  average.  There's  more 
blamed  chance  of  the  machine-gun  getting  jammed 
while  one  is  fighting  an  adversary  in  the  air  than 
there  is  of  doing  any  crack  shooting.  If  the  gun 


218  WAR  LETTERS 

jams  there's  absolutely  nothing  to  do  but  beat  it 
by  dropping  head  first  with  the  machine  for  home 
and  the  repair-shop.  That  occurs  time  and  again 
at  the  front.  I  suppose  the  most  chivalrous  thing 
a  fellow  could  do  if  his  opponent's  gun  jams  would 
be  to  toss  over  his  revolver  and  give  the  other  guy 
a  fighting  chance  that  way,  but  I  never  heard  of  its 
being  done  yet.  The  little  brotherly  feeling  that 
there  is  in  this  war  exists  only  between  the  avia- 
tion corps  of  the  two  sides,  but  there  isn't  an  over- 
abundance of  that.  I  wouldn't  trust  a  Boche  to 
throw  me  his  revolver  if  he  saw  my  machine-gun 
was  indisposed  to  work  for  its  existence,  or  if  my 
ammunition  had  all  gone  to  waste  in  the  air  around 
him, — would  you  ? 

The  authorities  here — particularly  the  captain- 
have  been  just  fine  with  us  four  Americans  who  have 
been  here  this  month.  We've  had  a  big  room  to 
ourselves  instead  of  having  to  quarter  in  the  reg- 
ular barracks  with  the  other  under-grade  pilots 
(we're  only  corporals)  and  for  a  time  we  had  a 
young  French  adjutant  who  spoke  English  to  in- 
struct us.  He  left  a  while  ago  to  become  a  pilot, 
and  the  captain  immediately  put  us  with  a  group 
of  officer-pilots.  The  average  French  officer  is  an 
awfully  decent  sort  and  we've  found  the  best  class 
of  them  in  the  aviation.  A  large  percentage  of 
them  are  former  cavalry  officers  and  you  know 
yourself  that  the  cavalry  of  any  country  has  the 
monopoly  of  the  best  men  as  officers — men  from  the 
best  families.  Thus,  on  account  of  the  cavalry  be- 


EDMOND  GENET  219 

ing  used  so  little  in  this  kind  of  warfare  most  of 
the  officers — in  preference  to  changing  to  infantry 
—have  entered  the  aerial  service.  One  of  the  most 
gentlemanly  officers  I  have  met  over  here  was  a 
captain  from  the  cavalry  who  was  at  Buc  the  same 
time  as  myself  and  he  came  to  Pau  before  I  left. 
A  week  after  coming  here  I  read  of  his  death  in  a 
fall  at  Pau  with  a  Nieuport.  It  was  unbelievable 
to  me  because  he  was  an  excellent  pilot  and  ex- 
tremely cool.  Even  the  best  pilots  meet  their 
death  some  time  or  other.  It's  so  much  better  to 
have  the  end  come  while  one  is  fighting  at  the  front. 
We've  lost,  as  you  must  already  know,  the  origina- 
tor of  the  American  escadrille — Norman  Prince. 
He  died  from  having  had  both  legs  broken  in  an 
aerial  flight  on  Oct.  15th.  He  was  in  a  hospital  near 
the  front  when  he  died  and  very  near  the  end  he 
was  decorated  with  the  Legion  of  Honor.  He  cer- 
tainly deserved  it.  He  was  on  the  Rochambeau  with 
me  when  I  came  over.  That  was  his  first  time  in 
France  when  he  came  to  enter  the  French  aviation 
service.  Later  he  thought  of  getting  the  French 
to  consent  to  forming  the  American  escadrille  and 
he  went  to  America  to  work  it  up  and  get  fellows  to 
come  for  it. 

Thus  far  three  have  been  killed  at  the  front, 
Chapman,  Rockwell,  and  Prince;  Dowd  met  his  fate 
at  Buc,  and  another  young  fellow,  Balsley,  has  been 
in  the  American  Ambulance  for  months  now  and 
will  be  partially  paralyzed  for  life — if  he  pulls 
through  at  all.  There  seems  to  be  a  fighting  chance 


220  WAR  LETTERS 

yet  for  his  life.  He  received  an  explosive  bullet  in 
his  stomach  and  hip-bone.  A  big  piece  of  the 
latter  had  to  be  cut  out.  How  he  ever  lived  at  all 
is  a  marvel  which  can  only  be  attributed  to  the 
Amer.  Ambulance  surgeons. 

One  of  the  fellows  at  the  front,  Lufbery  (a 
former  U.  S.  army  fellow),  has  5  enemy  machines 
to  his  credit  now  and  is,  therefore,  numbered  among 
the  best  pilots  of  the  service.  When  one  has 
brought  down  5  enemy  machines  he  is  named  in  the 
French  official  communiques  and  is  one  of  the 
"aces"  of  the  corps. 

If  I  last  through  this  war  I  feel  pretty  certain 
that  my  name  won't  be  "mud"  back  in  the  U.  S. 
I  think  there's  still  a  bit  of  a  glimmer  in  my  lucky 
star,  Rod,  and  if  it  will  only  keep  alight  I  shouldn't 
get  gray  hairs  over  the  future.  If  I  get  gray  hairs 
'twill  be  over  the  present — while  I'm  doing  my  little 
bit  against  the  Boche  pilots.  Gray  hair  don't 
worry  me  in  the  least  though.  If  I  don't  return 
banged  up  in  some  way  no  one  will  ever  believe 
I've  been  through  this  racket  at  all,  papers  or  no 
papers.  I  certainly  haven't  lost  flesh  over  it  as 
you  can  easily  see  by  my  photographs.  I  hope  you 
have  received  the  one  I  sent  you  in  early  September. 
Mother  writes  that  she  rec'd  hers  so  I  suppose  you 
have  also.  Please  pardon  the  streak  of  dirt  over 
my  upper  lip.  The  photographer  forgot  to  tell  me 
to  wash  it  off — poor  fool !  Rivers  is  in  the  dark 
shade  with  his  kid  brother  now. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Chas.  Rowe  yesterday.     Says 


EDMOND  GENET 

he's  working  in  the  same  firm  in  N.  Y.  with  George. 
Takes  a  6  something  train  every  A.  M.  I  can't  say 
I'd  change  places  with  him  or  any  of  the  others  of 
our  old  gang,  Rod,  even  if  they  are  safe  over  there 
and  perhaps  putting  a  little  in  the  bank  every  30 
days.  I  may  have  but  a  month  or  so  more  to  live 
but  by  all  that's  heavenly  I'll  meet  a  death  that  will 
bring  honor  to  any  one  and  (you  perhaps  over  there 
can't  realize  the  fulness  of  the  enthusiasm  we  few 
American  fellows  who  are  over  here  hold  for 
France  and  this  big  cause)  the  world  will  know  and 
remember  our  sacrifice  through  many  a  year  to 
come.  -  There  are  plenty  of  others  over  there  to 
jump  into  the  place  I  might  be  filling  while  there 
are  none  over  here  to  fill  my  place  at  the  front. 
Every  pilot  counts.  No  one  else  will  ever  fill  my 
place.  Those  behind  will  have  their  own  place  to 
fill.  As  I've  written  to  Mother  and  Rivers  you've 
got  to  expect  me  to  meet  the  same  fate  as  Chap- 
man, Rockwell,  Prince,  and  the  rest  who  may  go 
soon,  just  as  I  expect  it.  A  pilot  can't  always  win, 
no  matter  how  broad  his  streak  of  luck  may  be. 
All  we  ask  is  to  be  able  to  bring  down  a  few  of  the 
enemy  machines  before  our  turn  comes. 
Your  devoted  brother, 

EDMOND, 
Caporal  pilote-aviateur. 


WAR  LETTERS 

Division  de  Combat  Aerien, 

Ecole  d'Aviation  Militaire, 

Pau,  Basses-Pyrenees,  France, 

Nov.  2nd,  1916. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Your  letters  reached  me  in  the  latter  part  of  last 
month  just  previous  to  my  leaving  Cazaux  and  I 
intended  to  send  you  a  good  reply  while  in  Paris 
spending  my  leave  from  the  27th  through  the  31st 
with  the  Parkers,  but  I  never  had  such  a  strenuous 
and  delightful  vacation  over  here  before.  I  was 
simply  on  the  go  from  start  to  finish — in  fact  so 
much  so  toward  the  last  that  I  nearly  missed  my 
train  Tuesday  night  by  staying  at  the  Harpers' 
to  meet  Helen's  oldest  brother  who  had  just  come 
in  on  a  leave  from  his  work  with  the  field-hospital 
service  of  the  Amer.  Ambulance  at  Verdun.  He's 
about  my  age.  I  just  caught  the  train  by  offering  a 
cab-driver  10  francs  to  get  me  to  the  station.  He 
drove  some  fast.  Taxis  are  almost  impossible  to 
get  hold  of  after  six  at  night.  They're  all  occupied. 
It's  terrible. 

Major  and  Mrs.  Parker  were  just  as  nice  to  me  as 
any  one  could  be  and  I  spent  a  most  pleasant  time 
with  them.  I  got  around  to  see  nearly  all  the 
friends,  but  I'm  getting  so  many  of  them  here  that 
it  seemed  an  impossible  task.  The  five  days  went 
like  mad. 

In  my  last  letter  I  told  you  I  was  going  to  see 
Miss  Harper  for  the  first  time.  I  saw  her  part  of 
every  day  I  was  there.  She  surely  is  one  lovely 
girl  and,  though  hardly  seventeen  yet,  seems  about 


EDMOND  GENET  223 

19  or  20.  Her  mother  is  delightful  and  was  very 
good  to  me.  They  had  me  there  to  dine  four  or  five 
times  and  Saturday  night  Helen  and  I  went  with 
a  chaperon  to  see  "Madame  Butterfly"  in  its  open- 
ing night  at  the  Opera  Comique.  We  enjoyed  it 
immensely.  I  had  never  seen  it  in  New  York,  so 
was  mighty  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  see  it  there. 

This  morning  I  made  my  first  flight  in  over  a 
month  with  a  Nieuport  and  did  quite  well.  It  felt 
great  to  be  up  once  more.  I  don't  believe  much  in 
staying  out  of  a  machine  too  long  at  a  time  as  one 
gets  a  bit  nervous  about  going  up  again.  I  was 
this  morning — until  I  felt  the  machine  leave  the 
ground  and  then  I  felt  completely  at  home  once 
more.  I  bought  myself  a  good  warm  fur-lined 
leather  head-covering  in  Paris.  It  completely 
covers  my  head  and  buttons  close  up  over  my 
mouth.  The  goggles  of  course  protect  my  eyes 
from  the  wind.  I  really  felt  quite  warm  and  snug 
with  it  this  morning  although  I  wasn't  at  a  high 
enough  altitude  to  judge  it  properly — only  600 
metres. 

Three  of  us  coming  down  from  our  leave  at  Paris 
rode  first-class  all  Tuesday  night  and  never  paid 
a  cent  of  fare.  We  had  our  ordinary  order  of  trans- 
port but  it  only  grants  a  3rd-class  passage.  We've 
always  managed  to  work  it  1st  class  though,  so  we 
had  a  compartment  to  ourselves  and  got  a  good 
sleep.  We  arrived  in  Pau  at  noon  yesterday  and 
came  out  right  after  dining  at  one  of  the  hotels. 
It  seems  good  to  be  back  here  again.  The  climate 


224  WAR  LETTERS 

here  is  warm  and  pleasant  at  this  time  of  the  year 
and  I  guess  the  month  or  so  I'll  have  here  will  not 
be  too  disagreeable  or  cold  to  enjoy  flying. 

A  very  nice  letter  came  from  Mrs.  Wheeler  writ- 
ten in  early  October  just  after  they  had  returned 
from  their  trip.  They  were  in  Concord  and  she 
said  they  would  be  there  for  some  time.  Dave 
was  trying  to  secure  a  medical  commission  in  either 
the  Canadian  or  English  forces  and  so  will  most 
likely  be  back  on  this  side  before  long.  He  cer- 
tainly has  an  immense  stock  of  youthful  fire  and 
love  of  excitement.  Mrs.  Wheeler  will  have  to 
tie  him  up  to  keep  him  from  charging  the  Germans 
again  like  he  did  in  Champagne. 

What  do  you  suppose  I  received  yesterday  when 
I  arrived  here  ?  You  know  from  my  last  letter  that 

I  haven't  heard  from  since  away  back  in 

August  and  have  been  fretting  my  heart  out  with 
anxiety  over  her,  thinking  she  was  dangerously  sick 
or  something.  Well,  yesterday  came  a  postal 
written  on  Oct.  2nd.  She  says:  "Why  don't  you 
write  ?  I  scan  the  papers  for  news  of  you  and  wait 
for  the  mails,  but  get  nothing." 

Here  I've  been  writing  letter  after  letter  ever 
since  August — at  least  one  every  week — and  why 
haven't  they  reached  her  and  if  she  has  been  writ- 
ing all  the  time  the  same  as  usual,  why  haven't 
her  letters  reached  me  when  all  my  other  letters 
seem  to  reach  their  destinations  and  all  letters  to 
me  seem  to  arrive  safely?  I  can't  understand  it 
at  all.  ...  I  do  hope  a  letter  comes  from  her 


EDMOND   GENET  225 

mighty  soon  which  will  clear  it  all  up.  I  have  been 
absolutely  distracted  over  it  all.  Here  I've  written 
right  along  and  she  evidently  has  also  and  not 
one  of  our  letters  has  been  received.  What  is  the 
reason?  Why  should  our  letters  to  each  other  be 
held  up  when  none  of  the  others  are?  There  never 
is  anything  of  military  importance  in  my  letters 
to  her  and  certainly  not  in  hers  to  me. 

An  order,  I  understand,  has  been  passed  that 
any  of  us  Americans  can  secure  a  leave  to  the  U.  S. 
of  21  days  with  travel  time  in  addition  and  2nd- 
class  accommodations  paid.  That's  fine,  but  I've 
two  distinct  reasons  for  not  wishing  such  enjoy- 
ments now.  One  is  that  I  had  better  keep  out  of 
the  U.  S.  until  after  January,  1917  (you  realize 
why),  and  the  second  reason  is  because  I  want  to 
get  to  the  front  as  quickly  as  possible  and  do  some 
good  work  before  I  ask  for  liberty  to  the  dear  old 
homeland.  I  wouldn't  feel  right  to  go  back  with- 
out having  first  spent  four  or  six  months  in  flying 
on  the  front  even  though  I  have  had  nearly  2  years 
of  steady  service.  I'm  sure  I  could  get  leave  now 
just  on  account  of  my  service,  but  I'm  not  going  to 
ask  for  it.  Next  Spring — perhaps  about  May  or 
June — will  be  time  enough  and  I'd  rather  spend 
that  season  over  with  you  all  than  the  cold  winter. 
Not  that  I'm  not  mighty,  mighty  anxious  to  see 
you  all  again,  dear  little  Mother,  but  I  want  more 
active  service  to  back  me  up  and  I  might  get  in 
trouble  over  there  if  I  came  back  within  two  years 
of  my  leaving.  That's  the  most  important  reason. 


226  WAR  LETTERS 

What  was  the  letter  you  had  published  in  Ossi- 
ning  from  me  ?  I  got  a  very  strange  and  ridiculous 
letter  yesterday  from  Ossining  which  was  un- 
signed. The  writer  said  the  he  or  she  (I  rather 
think  it  was  a  she  from  the  style  of  the  writing)  had 
"read  with  amazement  my  letter  to  my  dear 
Mother,  but  still  I  think  America  first;  as  to  your 
advancement  I  hope  you  survived  to  cross  the 
German  line  and  be  killed  as  you  are  a  traitor  to 
your  country;  this  is  from  Ossining."  That's  all. 
I  suppose  it  is  from  some  foolish  young  kid  who  is 
pro-German.  The  writing  and  spelling  are  rather 
poor.  I  sure  would  like  to  find  out  who  it  is. 
That's  the  first  unfriendly  letter  I've  ever  received 
from  the  States.  It  is  amusing.  What  was  the 
letter  I  wrote  to  you  anyway?  Please  be  careful 
about  all  my  letters  as  I  often  tell  things  rather  un- 
neutral  and  not  pro-German. 

The  papers  of  yesterday  report  that  two  more  of 
our  boys  at  the  front  have  been  killed,  but  we 
don't  know  who  yet  nor  anything  definite  about  it. 
It  may  not  be  true. 

I  may  be  having  a  20th  birthday  on  the  9th, 
Mother  dear,  but  I  assure  you  I  feel  decidedly 
younger  than  that  young  age.  I'm  glad  I'm  no 
older. 

Thus  far  we  aren't  pushing  the  Roumania  ques- 
tion. Major  Parker  advises  that  I  wait  until  I'm 
finished  with  this  school  and  he  feels  that  it  will  be 
quite  possible  to  be  sent  if  I  then  wish  it.  If  not 
he'll  get  me  sent  to  the  front  with  our  own  esca- 


EDMOND  GENET  227 

drille  at  once  which  will  be  O.  K.  to  me  if  I  stay 
over  here.  I  don't  wish  to  stay  in  reserve  for  two 
or  three  months. 

I've  been  terribly  lax  in  my  correspondence  this 
last  month  simply  because  of  lack  of  time.  We 
have  plenty  of  work  here  also  so  I  guess  I'll  have  a 
hard  time  to  make  up  and  answer  the  pile  of  letters 
I've  had  waiting  to  be  answered  for  a  month  or 
more.  My  friends  will  think  me  dead.  This  is 
all  I've  got  time  for  now.  May  this  find  you  in  the 
best  of  health  and  good  spirits,  Mother  dear. 

Nov.  8th,  1916. 
DEAR  LEAH, 

Well  what  do  you  think  of  "poor  Teddy"  now? 
He's  not  President  but  he  did  a  big  lot  to  put 
Hughes  in.  We  got  the  returns  of  the  election  this 
noon  and  we  all  just  jumped  around  like  mad  men 
in  our  sheer  joy  over  the  great  news.  Hip,  hip, 
hooray !  !  !  !  !  I'm  crazy  with  delight.  .  .  . 

I  received  my  military  pilot's  license  on  Sept.  3rd 
at  Buc  and  also  the  license  issued  by  the  Aero  Club 
of  France.  The  remainder  of  that  month  I  was 
here  learning  to  pilot  the  little  avion  de  chasse, 
Nieuport,  which  I  shall  pilot  at  the  front  and  then 
spent  all  Of  last  month  at  a  school  near  Bordeaux 
where  we  had  machine-gun  practice  and  learned  all 
there  is  to  know  about  the  various  machine-guns  in 
use. 

It  was  intensely  interesting.  The  school  is 
situated  on  the  shore  of  a  huge  lake  south  of  Bor- 


228  WAR  LETTERS 

deaux  and  close  to  the  coast  and  we  fired  machine- 
guns  from  hydroplanes  and  fast  motor-boats  with 
gas  balloons  for  targets  and  all  sorts  of  such  kind 
of  stunts. 

At  the  end  of  that  course  I  had  five  glorious  days 
of  leave  in  Paris  and  then  came  here  on  the  first  of 
this  month.  The  worst  part  of  it  is  that  since 
coming  here  the  weather  has  continued  to  persist 
in  being  miserable  and  we've  had  only  a  very  little 
flying  in  consequence.  It  did  feel  great,  though, 
to  pilot  a  Nieuport  again  after  doing  no  piloting 
for  over  a  month. 

The  little  Nieuport  is  a  wonderful  aeroplane, 
very  fast,  easily  handled — except  in  landing — and 
a  complete  delight  to  pilot  in  flight.  One  can  do 
all  kinds  of  crazy  stunts  with  it.  The  last  thing  we 
have  to  do  here  are  acrobatics  and  then  I'll  have 
to  do  loops,  dives,  turns,  sidewise,  and  a  host  of 
other  hair-raising  feats  with  it  to  qualify.  Just 
now  I'm  doing  aerial  tactics  in  company  with  other 
machines.  The  whole  course  is  simply  fascinating 
from  beginning  to  end. 

The  accident  you  read  which  I  had  at  Buc  wasn't 
very  much.  I  fell  50  metres  in  a  50  h.  p.  Bleriot 
monoplane  and  smashed  the  machine  to  pieces  no 
larger  than  matchsticks.  I  have  a  photo,  of  it 
and  hope  to  show  it  to  you  some  day.  I  was 
strapped  in  tightly,  of  course  (we  always  are),  so 
didn't  get  hurled  out  when  the  machine  struck.  I 
was  laid  up  for  a  few  days  in  the  school  hospital 
with  a  badly  wrenched  hip  and  back,  but  it  didn't 


EDMOND   GENET  229 

last  very  long — only  every  now  and  then  I  find  the 
pain  comes  back  in  my  left  hip  and  makes  me  lame 
for  a  short  time. 

While  here  in  September  I  had  my  second  acci- 
dent from  which  I  escaped  without  ever  a  bruise. 
I  turned  completely  over  with  a  Nieuport.  We  all 
have  to  have  some  trouble.  There  are  lots,  though, 
who  never  come  out  of  their  accident  alive.  It's 
about  safe  to  say  that  about  as  many  aviators  are 
killed  in  their  training  period  as  there  are  at  the 
actual  front  by  the  enemy.  We  had  an  American 
killed  at  Buc  the  very  day  following  my  little  fall 
there — Dowd,  from  Brooklyn,  who  was  first  in  the 
Legion  from  the  very  commencement  of  the  war. 
At  the  front  we  have  already  lost  three,  Chapman, 
Rockwell  and  Norman  Prince,  the  originator  of 
the  escadrille. 

I'm  hoping  to  reach  the  front  before  Christmas 
time.  Six  months  is  the  usual  time  for  training  for 
aviation  and  I  commenced  in  early  June.  I  want 
to  get  back  into  the  fight  and  do  my  little  bit  before 
the  enemy  bring  me  down.  That's  all  any  of  us 
desire — to  get  a  lot  of  the  enemy  before  one  of  them 
gets  us.  C'est  la  guerre. 

Goodness,  we're  all  growing  up  and  getting  old 
and  stern.  I'm  glad  I'm  not  more  than  twenty 
to-morrow.  Life  is  mighty  short  anyway,  but  over 
here  it  certainly  is  on  the  edge  of  things — every 
blessed  day.  Ever  sincerely  yours, 

EDMOND, 
Caporal  Pilote-aviateur. 


230  WAR  LETTERS 

November  9th,  1916. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

Three  rousing  cheers !  Hughes  is  elected  and 
there'll  be  a  new  administration  when  next  March 
comes  around.  We  got  the  good  news  yesterday 
noon  and  just  went  wild  with  delight.  The  Cap- 
tain granted  us  a  half-day  off  on  the  7th  to  cele- 
brate Election  Day,  but  of  course  we  didn't  receive 
any  returns  until  yesterday.  I  celebrated  Elec- 
tion Day  and  my  birthday  all  together  by  treating 
a  comrade  and  myself  to  a  good  dinner  at  one  of 
the  big  hotels  in  Pau  on  the  7th. 

Now  I've  got  bigger  hopes  for  coming  out  O.  K. 
if  I  ever  get  back  to  the  States  after  the  war.  I'd 
like  to  know  if  Roosevelt  will  be  on  Hughes 's  cabinet 
as  Sec'ty  of  War.  If  he  is  then  there  is  lots  of  hope. 
Also  there's  going  to  be  a  big,  big  boom  in  aeronau- 
tics in  the  U.  S.  now. 

Your  letter  of  October  14th  written  from  Ossi- 
ning  arrived  on  the  7th  with  the  enclosed  one  of 
Billy  de  Lancy's  to  you.  What  on  earth  is  the 
article  you  sent  him  about  me  to  which  he  refers  ? 
I  wish  you  would  enlighten  me  on  these  subjects  a 
little  more.  I'm  all  at  sea  over  the  letter  you  must 
have  published  to  which  that  fool  person,  of  whom 
I  spoke  in  my  last  letter,  wrote  when  he  or  she 
called  me  a  traitor  to  my  country. 

There  is  more  possibility  of  my  going  to  the 
French  front  first  and  later  going  to  Roumania. 
It  is  all  rather  vague  just  now.  I  want  to  finish 
here  first  before  making  any  definite  plans.  I'm 
sure  of  a  lot  of  help  from  Major  Parker  no  matter 


EDMOND  GENET  231 

what  I  decide  to  do.  There  is  a  young  Roumanian 
here  who  is  the  son  of  the  Roumanian  ambassador 
to  England  and  of  a  very  noted  Roumanian  family. 
He  was  at  Buc  with  me  and  is  about  a  month  and 
a  half  or  two  months  behind  me  in  his  training, 
being  just  in  the  beginning  of  the  Nieuport  Division 
here  where  I  was  in  Sept.  He  wants  to  be  on  the 
French  front  for  a  few  months  and  then  go  to 
Roumania  and  I  may  do  the  same — going  with  him 
to  Roumania.  It  would  help  me  lots,  doing  that, 
I'm  sure. 

There's  no  use  in  asking  me  to  keep  out  of  the 
most  danger  over  here,  dear  Mother.  There's 
danger  everywhere  and  I'm  too  much  of  a  fatalist 
to  look  out  for  the  soft  places.  I'm  in  God's  hands 
and  not  my  own,  so  I'll  do  my  part  wherever  it  may 
please  Him  to  lead  me. 

The  weather  has  been  impossible  for  flying  lately 
—showers  every  day  and  night  for  the  past  five  or 
six  days.  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  well  past  December 
1st  before  I  am  through  here  and  ready  for  the 
front.  Thus  far  I  haven't  done  very  much  at  all 
here.  The  first  part  of  the  course  here  is  aerial 
combat  tactics;  the  acrobatics  come  last. 

The  postal  I  wrote  of  in  my  last  letter  is  the  only 

news  from I've  had  yet.  Every  mail  I  look 

hopefully  for  a  letter  and  thus  far  every  mail  has 
been  disappointing — miserably  so.  It's  all  such 
a  hateful  nuisance  the  way  our  letters  have  never 
reached  each  other  all  this  time.  It  seems  ab- 
solutely impossible. 

Such  a  nice  letter  came  from  the  Major  yesterday. 


232  WAR  LETTERS 

He  wrote  that  I  must  consider  them  as  being  my 
own  people  over  here  and  come  to  them  whenever 
I  can.  Really,  Mother,  I've  been  almost  unbe- 
lievably fortunate  with  my  friendships  over  here 
where  I  never  expected  to  find  any  real  friends. 
It  looks  too  as  though  I  have  found  some  more 
very  excellent  friends  in  the  Harpers.  Helen, 
the  daughter,  is  extremely  attractive — not  at  all 
the  sort  of  American-Parisian  girl  I  supposed  all 
such  girls  were  over  here.  It  helps  a  lot  to  have 
such  friends  near  one  over  in  this  life,  dear  little 
Mother.  It  takes  off  the  real  sting  of  the  loneliness 
one  can't  help  getting  now  and  then. 

Hedin  has  asked  me  to  write  an  article  on  avia- 
tion over  here  to  give  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 

The  "A.  M."  has  asked  him  to  try  and  get  some 
one  to  write  an  article  on  that  subject  for  them. 
I  could  probably  make  75  or  100  dollars  on  it, 
Hedin  tells  me,  but  I  am  rather  sceptical  about 
writing  anything.  If  I  get  into  the  right  frame  of 
mind  sometime  perhaps  I'll  make  a  stab  at  the 
job.  I  never  could  do  such  work  offhand. 

I  got  a  little  more  than  I  thought  I  did  when  I 
had  that  fall  at  Buc  with  the  Bleriot  monoplane. 
Very  frequently  when  I  sit  down  I  get  a  small  pain 
at  the  very  end  of  my  spine  and  at  varying  times 
pains — or  rather  stiffness  comes  into  my  left  hip 
and  I  have  to  limp.  I'm  not  worrying  over  it, 
though,  because  it  certainly  can't  be  very  serious. 


EDMOND  GENET  233 

November  14th,  1916. 
OH,   GLIMMERING  STAR, 

"  I'm  one  of  those  famous  legionnaires 

You've  read  so  much  about; 
The  people  stop  to  stare  at  me 

Whenever  I  come  out. 
I'm  noted  for  my  courageousness, 

The  terrible  things  I  do; 
Most  everybody  likes  me, — 

'Cept  the  Bodies:— 
They  hate  me  through  and  through. 

CHORUS: 

While  we  go  marching, 
And  the  band  begins  to  play 
(to  play-y-y) 

You  can  hear  them  shouting — 
'The  liberty  and  the  patrie's  safe, 
The  Legion's  on  its  way. ' ' 

Quite  some  song,  n'est-ce  pas,  cherie?  Ah,  oui, 
et  elle  etait  composee  par  un  legionnaire — un  vo- 
lontaire  americain.  Pas  mal  du  tout !  Je  vais  vous 
chanter  ga  quand  je  serai  chez  vous.  Comprenez- 
vous? 

You  may  think  from  all  this  foregoing  nonsense 
that  I'm  chock-full  of  brightness  but  ce  n'est  pas 
comme  ga  du  tout.  I'm  blue — terribly  so — over 
those  miserable  elections.  Where  has  American 
patriotism  and  honor  sunk  to,  anyway?  Enough 
of  it.  Mon  Dieu ! 

By  the  first  of  the  year  I  hope  to  have  brought 
down  my  first  German  avion  or  be  buried  myself. 


234  WAR  LETTERS 

I'll  be  through  here  by  at  least  Dec.  15th  and  then 
will  soon  be  going  out  to  join  the  escadrille  at  the 
front.  I'm  glad  as  can  be  too  for  it's  been  six 
months  since  I  left  the  front  and  so  high  time  I  was 
getting  back  to  do  my  duty.  I've  made  a  pretty 
fair  record  thus  far  in  my  training  in  the  different 
schools  and  I'm  satisfied  as  far  as  that  goes,  but 
what  is  that  to  doing  good  work  at  the  front? 
Nothing.  Rien. 

There's  a  possibility  that  I  shall  go  to  the  eastern 
front  with  the  Russians  and  Roumanians,  but  prob- 
ably not  until  I've  first  spent  two  or  three  months 
of  active  service  on  this  western  front.  I'm  very 
keen  on  going  to  Roumania  and  may  only  wait  to 
go  with  a  young  Roumanian  aviateur  who  is  a  little 
behind  me  in  the  schools  here.  He's  the  son  of  the 
Roumanian  ambassador  to  England  and  a  mighty 
decent  chap.  He  may  stay  on  this  front  also  for 
a  month  or  so  before  going  to  his  own  country  so 
that  if  I  wait  for  him  I'll  not  leave  for  the  east  until 
next  March  or  April.  I  can't  say  much  about  that 
yet. 

Your  affec't.  manager, 

EDMOND, 
Caporal  Pilote-aviateur. 

November  15th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR  LEAH, 

I  surrender — unconditionally  and  in  profound 
disgust.  There  I  went  and  wrote  in  maddened  de- 
light over  the  returns  of  the  elections  which  first 


EDMOND  GENET  235 

reached  here  and  then,  directly  afterward  they  all 
turned  out  to  be  miserably  false.  Hughes  lost  and 
there's  another  four  years  ahead  of  us  with  Wilson 
at  the  helm.  We  all  went  perfectly  wild  with  joy 
over  here  when  those  first  returns  arrived  giving  the 
election  to  Hughes.  Then,  immediately  afterward, 
came  four  days  of  hideous  suspense  in  which  we 
could  only  wait  and  hope  and  now  the  sad,  final  re- 
sult is  known  and  we  have  lost  every  bit  of  hope. 

You  win,  Leah,  and  I've  quit  in  consternation 
and  complete  despair.  Where  has  all  the  old 
genuine  honor  and  patriotism  and  humane  feelings 
of  our  countrymen  gone  ?  What  are  those  people, 
who  live  on  their  farms  in  the  West,  safe  from  the 
chances  of  foreign  invasion,  made  of,  anyway? 
They  decided  the  election  of  Mr.  Wilson.  Don't 
they  know  anything  about  the  invasion  of  Belgium, 
the  submarine  warfare  against  their  own  country- 
men and  all  the  other  outrages  which  all  neutral 
countries,  headed  by  the  United  States  should  have 
long  ago  rose  up  and  suppressed  and  which,  because 
of  the  past  administration's  "peace  at  any  price" 
attitude  have  been  left  to  increase  and  increase? 
They  crave  for  peace,  those  unthinking,  uncaring 
voters,  and  what's  the  reason  ?  Why,  they're  mak- 
ing money  hand  over  fist  because  their  country 
is  at  peace — at  peace  at  the  price  of  its  honor  and 
respect  in  the  whole  civilized  world — at  peace  while 
France  and  Belgium  are  being  soaked  in  blood  by 
a  barbarous  invasion — while  the  very  citizens  of  the 
United  States  are  being  murdered  and  those  same 


236  WAR  LETTERS 

invaders  are  laughing  behind  our  backs — even  in 
our  very  faces.  Oh,  it's  a  bitter,  bitter  subject  to 
every  one  of  us  Americans  over  here,  Leah.  We 
had  hopes,  though,  before  the  elections  that  there 
was  coming  a  change  for  the  better — that  our  coun- 
try would  wake  up  and  realize  that  action  and  not 
"notes"  were  needed,  but  now — well,  we  haven't 
any  more  hopes.  We're  thoroughly,  disgusted,  and 
bitter  as  the  pill  has  been,  we've  swallowed  it. 
Were  I  not  such  a  full-blooded  loyal  American  I 
would  have  no  scruples  in  dying  over  here — a 
Frenchman,  but  I'm  an  American  through  to  the 
core  and  I'll  never  give  up  that  nationality  my  birth 
gave  to  me.  It  couldn't  be  possible  for  Americans 
in  America  to  feel  the  same  bitter  way  as  Americans 
over  here  among  the  very  scenes  of  this  war's  hor- 
rors. It's  not  comprehensible  over  there  where 
peace  reigns  supreme.  Come  over  here  and  you'll 
be  engulfed  like  the  rest  of  us  in  the  realization  of 
the  necessity  of  the  whole  civilized  world  arming 
itself  against  this  intrusion  of  utter  brutality  and 
militaristic  arrogance.  Peace — God  forbid  such 
happiness  until  the  invaders  have  been  victoriously 
driven  back  behind  their  own  borders,  knowing  the 
lesson  of  their  folly  in  treading  ruthlessly  on  un- 
offending neutral  territory  and  all  the  rest  of  their 
deeds  of  piracy  and  the  blood  of  France  and  Bel- 
gium has  dried  up.  We're  fighting  "jusqu'au 
bout"  (that's  a  famous  expression  used  here  now, 
meaning  to  the  very  end).  I  say  we  because  I'm 
heartily  glad  and  proud  I'm  one  of  them.  WTe 


EDMOND   GENET  237 

are  all  ready  and  mighty  willing  to  fight  jusqu'au 
bout,  every  one  of  us. 

These  two  lengthy  lectures  (Pune  apres  1'autre) 
ought  surely  to  merit  a  very,  very  long  one  from 
you.  Please  don't  disappoint  me  and  please,  please 
don't  lecture  me  on  my  heroic  stand  against  the 
Democratic  party  and  its  weak  principles.  It's 
too  sore  a  subject  with  me. 

Hearty  wishes  to  you  all  and  a  jolly  winter  for 

old  Ossining.  ,.-         .         , 

Most  sincerely, 

EDMOND, 
Caporal  Pilote-aviateur. 


November  16th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

My  last  letter  was  full  of  glad  enthusiasm  over 
the  supposed  results  of  the  elections.  Of  course 
the  later  news  of  Wilson's  victory  came  in  several 
days  following  that  one  and  our  hearts  and  hopes 
have  consequently  sunk  to  our  boots. 

No  news  of  any  kind  from  yet  and  I'm 

simply  distracted. 

If  you  and  Rivers  and  Rod  only  send  me  snap- 
shots of  yourselves  I  surely  will  be  contented.  I 
have  those  pictures  of  you  and  Dad  in  Paris,  but 
they  are  too  big  to  carry  with  me  and  I  want  one  of 
each  of  you  as  you  are  now. 

Paul  Rockwell  certainly  does  write  mighty  good 
articles  to  boost  us  along.  Publicity  pays.  There 
are  scores  of  fellows  in  the  States  who  want  to  race 


238  WAR  LETTERS 

over  here  and  win  glory.  It's  all  glory  in  the  tell- 
ing, Mother.  Over  here  we  realize  more  fully  the 
real  side — the  grim  outlook  for  us  all.  Do  we  worry 
over  that  outlook  though  ?  NEVER ! 

Heaps  of  love  to  you  all  and  a  heart  full  of  grati- 
tude for  all  the  spendid  wishes  for  my  twentieth 

Your  devoted  son, 

EDMOND. 


Le  21  novembre,  1916. 

DEAR  CHAS., 

Yesterday  I  commenced  doing  acrobatics  with 
the  Nieuport — sharp  turns  on  one  wing,  the  vrille, 
which  is  the  French  term  for  shoot  (a  vertical  drop 
like  a  corkscrew),  turn-overs  completely  backward 
and  some  other  crazy  stunts.  It  sure  is  wonderful 
sport,  old  man — tres  amusant — and  absurdly  easy. 
These  Nieuport  avions  de  chasse  are  marvels  of 
aerial  perfection.  One  can  do  anything  he  wishes 
with  them  in  the  air.  The  higher  one  goes  the 
safer  one  is.  We  do  acrobatics  here  at  the  school 
between  1,400  and  800  metres.  On  account  of  the 
other  machines  flying  all  around  the  environs  of  the 
school  it  is  hardly  safe  to  do  stunts  below  800  metres. 

Rivers  has  written  to  me  about  those  weekly 
dances  you  all  enjoy  at  the  Lodge.  You  must  have 
good  fun  there.  Is  it  a  club  affair  or  just  volun- 
tary on  your  parts  ? 

There's  a  chance  that  I  shall  be  out  on  the  front 
with  the  other  boys  by  January.  I  had  hopes  of 
getting  there  before  Christmas  up  until  just  lately, 


EDMOND  GENET  239 

but  things  are  going  a  bit  slowly  at  the  school  as  is 
always  the  case  toward  winter,  when  the  fighting, 
particularly  aerial  fighting,  is  forced  to  quiet  down 
because  of  the  invariable  bad  weather,  so  I  have 
small  expectations  now  of  getting  sent  out  that  soon. 
Also  we  haven't  had  very  creditable  weather  for 
flying  since  the  first  of  the  month  when  I  first  got 
here  and  that  naturally  holds  up  the  work  a  good 
deal. 

Before  next  Spring  sets  in  I  may  go  to  the  eastern 
front  with  the  Russian  Aerial  Service  to  fight  air- 
battles  over  Roumanian  soil.  I  like  the  outlook 
very  much  as  it  would  very  probably  bring  me  a 
commission  to  start  with  and  something  to  boot 
afterward. 


\  That's  what  the 

O\  "vrille"  looks  like. 

j  I  can't  explain  how 

f~*\  it  feels  —  something 

j  the  way  one  does 

o<'  just  after  he  has  had 

\  a  trifle  too  much. 

/  Enorme! 


•OOMETEffS 


What  are  all  the  fellows  doing  now  ? 
I  sure  would  like  to  see  the  old  town  and  you  all 
again.  Yours  faithfully, 

MONK, 
Caporal  Pilote-aviateur. 


240  WAE  LETTERS 

November  26th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Yesterday  brought  me  your  letters.  .  .  . 

That  was  certainly  very  nice  and  thoughtful 
of  you  to  put  in  that  contribution  for  the  three  of 
us  who  have  gone  to  the  great  beyond  and  myself 
on  All  Saints'  Day  at  the  little  church.  I'd  have 
gone  to  church  myself  that  day  had  I  still  been  in 
Paris,  but  as  you  know  I  had  to  leave  the  evening 
before  to  come  down  here.  I  went  into  the  huge 
Catholic  church  here  last  Sunday  morning.  There 
is  an  Amer.  church  here,  I  believe,  but  haven't 
found  out  where  it  is  located.  Church  is  Church 
anywhere  and  in  any  denomination.  I'm  like 
Rivers  that  way. 

If  you  can — get  hold  of  the  Nov.  number  of  the 
World's  Work.  It  contains  a  splendidly  written 
account  of  the  escadrille  written  by  one  of  the  fel- 
lows— James  M.  McConnell — and  it  is  very  inter- 
esting indeed  and  will  give  you  a  fine  idea  of  just 
what  I  shall  be  doing  very  soon. 

That  package  you  sent  off  sounds  very,  very  good 
to  me  and  I  only  hope  fervently  that  it  reaches  me 
sound  and  complete.  When  it  does  I'll  acknowledge 
its  contents  to  all  the  good  contributors.  I  have 
a  mighty  fine  coat,  though,  which  Major  Parker 
presented  me  with — one  of  his  U.  S.  cavalry  cold- 
weather  coats.  It  is  like  a  blanket  inside  and  has 
a  huge  fur  collar.  I  have  found  it  most  warm  and 
comfortable.  If  Uncle  Lock  and  the  rest  wish  to 
send  me  something  useful  I  can  suggest  either  of 


EDMOND  GENET  241 

two  articles  which  would  be  mighty  acceptable  and 
useful  to  me  at  the  front — a  Colt  automatic  re- 
volver or  a  medium-size  pair  of  field-glasses.  Either 
will  be  very,  very  handy.  We  are  provided  with  a 
very  poor  quality  of  revolver  when  we  leave  for  the 
front  and  no  glasses  at  all. 

I  began  doing  acrobatics  on  last  Monday  and 
finished  on  Wed.  without  any  mishaps.  It  is  all 
ridiculously  easy  and  safe,  Mother.  I  found  ab- 
solutely no  disagreeable  sensation  in  the  least  while 
doing  any  of  the  stunts — the  "vrille,"  which  is  the 
vertical  head-drive  or  corkscrew  turn,  the  back- 
ward turn,  or  any  of  the  others.  It  was  all  very 
wonderful,  but  not  nearly  as  sensational  to  the  pilot 
as  to  the  onlookers  from  the  ground  several  hundred 
metres  below. 

After  completing  the  acrobatic  class  I  piloted  the 
delightful  little  "Baby"  Nieuport  for  two  days  and 
fell  completely  in  love  with  the  little  rascal.  It  is  a 
wonder  and  very  easy  to  pilot.  The  hard  part  is 
in  leaving  and  landing  on  the  ground,  particularly 
the  latter.  The  machines  here  only  contained  80 
h.  p.  motors,  but  at  the  front  we  have  110  h.  p. 
ones  h*  we  run  the  "Baby." 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  completed  the  Combat 
class  with  the  most  delightful  and  picturesque  flight 
I  have  ever  experienced  yet.  It  was  not  a  wonder- 
fully clear  afternoon,  starting  to  cloud  over  about 
two  o'clock.  I  left  the  field  about  a  quarter  to 
two  and  mounted  at  once  to  3,000  metres.  I  only 
had  an  hour's  flight  to  complete  the  class  time,  but 


242  WAR  LETTERS 

the  wonder  and  beauty  of  that  flight  thrilled  me  so 
much  that  I  was  up  for  2  hours.  After  attaining  the 
altitude  (3,000  metres)  I  was  above  the  first  line  of 
fleecy  clouds  which  were  blowing  eastward  from  off 
the  tops  of  the  Pyrenees  and  the  west.  The  sight 
of  those  flaky  patches  rolling  off  from  the  peaks  of 
that  beautiful  snow-clad  range  which  stretches 
along  to  our  south  between  France  and  the  Spanish 
Peninsula  at  a  height  of  from  2,500  to  3,500  metres 
was  exquisite. 

Never  have  I  enjoyed  a  flight  more  than  that,  for 
never  have  I  experienced  a  more  beautiful  one.  To 
be  over  those  mountains  and  above  those  masses 
of  clouds  is  an  experience  more  thrilling  and  en- 
joyable than  one  can  describe.  One  has  to  be  there 
to  realize  the  feeling  of  power  and  superiority  one 
possesses  on  such  an  occasion.  One  feels  as  safe 
as  you  do  on  the  grounds  of  1404  Powel  St. 

What  do  you  think  of  the  enclosed?  I  cut  it 
out  of  the  N.  Y.  Globe  sent  by  Dr.  Miner.  It's 
an  argument  which  every  red-blooded,  true,  loyal 
American  citizen  ought  to  recoil  at.  And  yet  they 
elected  Wilson  for  4  years  more !  Who  did  it 
though?  Why,  the  host  of  agriculturalists  and 
manufacturers  west  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi 
who  don't  know  what  invasion  means  because 
they're  miles  away  from  all  such  disturbances — who 
have  only  thought  of  their  own  prosperity  gained 
greatly  by  Europe's  drench  of  blood — by  a  policy 
of  infantile  watchful  waiting — of  peace  at  any  price 
— when  that  price  is  the  nation's  honor.  May  they 


EDMOND  GENET  243 

realize  their  folly  before  the  next  elections — and 
dearly  too. 

Your  loving,  devoted  "third," 

EDMOND. 


To  Miss  HELEN  G.  HARPER — His  MARRAINE 
This  is  only  a  letter — not  the  world's  history 

ficole  d' Aviation  Militaire, 

Pau,  B.-P., 
Le  27  novembre  1916. 

MY  DEAR  HELEN, 

This  is  my  first  chance  since  receiving  your  lovely 
letter  of  the  21st  that  I've  found  to  reply  and  in- 
deed this  is  only  half  a  chance  as  I'll  have  to  write 
it  in  snatches  this  afternoon.  I've  had  heaps  to 
do  these  last  five  or  six  days  between  a  lot  of  fly- 
ing and  vainly  endeavoring  to  lessen  the  stack  of 
letters  from  the  States  which  have  been  collecting 
since  no  one  knows  when.  With  me  a  letter  al- 
ways requires  plenty  of  spare  time  in  which  to  be 
adequately  answered.  I  can't  write  exceptionally 
fast  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  takes  me  a  con- 
siderable time  to  think  over  each  particular  sub- 
ject I  wish  to  write  about. 

One  of  the  fellows  received  a  letter  to-day  from 
a  chap  who  is  still  at  Buc  in  which  he  said  that  King 
has  returned  from  his  leave  in  England  and  expects 
to  be  reformed  [invalided]  very  soon  on  account  of 
a  bad  lung.  Is  this  so  ?  Lucky  King,  say  I ! 

I  thought  I  had  told  you  in  one  of  my  former 


244  WAR  LETTERS 

letters  about  my  plans  in  regard  to  Roumania.  ( ?) 
At  any  rate  I  meant  to  do  so.  It's  not  at  all  a 
question  over  which  I  have  made  any  definite  de- 
cision. I  am  waiting  until  I  have  completed  this 
course  and  am  ready  to  begin  active  service  on  the 
front.  Although  the  Roumanian  forces  are  suffer- 
ing reverses  and  all  late  reports  give  pretty  seri- 
ous results  for  them,  that  doesn't  affect  the  aerial 
condition  down  there  very  greatly.  The  fact  is, 
though,  that  the  enemy  aviators  are  having  every- 
thing very  much  their  own  way.  I've  read  and 
heard  reports  that  they  •  are  attacking  without 
much  opposition  the  towns  and  killing  with  their 
machine-guns  the  non-combatant  innocent  farm 
people  in  their  very  fields,  descending  to  extraor- 
dinary feeble  altitudes  to  do  so.  It  doesn't  sound 
to  me  as  though  there  could  be  very  many  allied 
aviators  there  to  oppose  them.  I  feel  confident 
that  an  energetic  pilot  could  fairly  easily  drive 
them  back  behind  their  own  lines.  I'm  mighty 
keen  on  going  down  there,  Helen,  and  if  there  is 
no  more  danger  than  there  is  on  this  front,  which  I 
can't  believe — there  surely  is  no  use  in  worrying 
about  it.  War  is  war,  dear  girl,  wherever  it  is, 
and  there's  danger  in  it  all.  Why  don't  you  wish 
me  to  go  down  there  ?  Have  you  any  special  rea- 
son? I'm  fighting  for  the  cause  whether  I  am  do- 
ing so  here  in  France  or  whether  I  am  doing  so  for 
a  more  needy  ally  such  as  Roumania  is  now.  I'm 
sure  aviators  are  more  needed  down  there  than  they 
are  here  to  drive  those  blamed  Boche-Austrian 


EDMOND   GENET  245 

slayers  of  innocent  women  and  children  back  be- 
hind their  own  lines.  The  Roumanians  are  having 
a  hard  battle  to  fight;  and  I  wish  very  earnestly  to 
get  down  there  to  stand  up  with  them.  There  are 
enough  Americans  on  this  front  to  help  France. 
As  it  is  I'll  be  under  French  control  in  the  east  be- 
sides being  also  under  the  control  of  the  Russian 
and  the  Roumanian  forces. 

Unless  I  see  a  good  chance  to  go  to  Roumania 
immediately  I  am  through  my  training,  which,  of 
course,  will  be  when  I  finish  here  next  month  (be- 
fore or  by  the  15th  I  expect),  I  shall  ask  for  the  fur- 
lough that  rumor  has  it  we  Americans  (in  fact  all 
foreigners  of  neutral  countries  fighting  for  France) 
are  to  be  allowed  before  February  first — that  is, 
three  weeks  to  spend  in  their  homeland  with  travel 
time  extra  and  2d-class  voyage  paid  by 'the  govern- 
ment. It  is  not  sure  yet,  but  I  have  written  to 
Major  Parker  asking  him  to  find  out  about  it  more 
fully.  I  surely  could  merit  it  as  far  as  service  is 
concerned  and  I  would  very,  very  much  like  to  get 
that  much  time  off  to  go  over  to  see  again  the  loved 
ones  at  home.  It  will  be  two  years  in  January  since 
I  left  them,  and  it  would  be  very  acceptable  to  me, 
Helen,  to  see  them  all  again.  Can  you  blame  me  ? 
I  don't  believe  you  would. 

The  day  before  yesterday  I  had  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  the  most  enjoyable  flight  I  have  ever  ex- 
perienced since  beginning  my  flying.  It  was  my 
last  flight  necessary  to  complete  my  time  in  the 
actual  combat  section  of  the  course.  I  had  an 


246  WAR  LETTERS 

hour  to  do.  That  morning  I  had  been  on  a  steady 
flight  of  two  and  a  half  hours  with  a  very  excellent 
machine.  The  motor  went  perfectly,  so  I  asked  to 
use  it  again  for  the  afternoon's  flight  and  the  in- 
structor gave  it  to  me  readily. 

I  left  the  aviation  field  about  twenty  minutes  of 
two  and  mounted  directly  to  3,000  metres  getting 
to  that  altitude  a  little  after  two  o'clock.  Small 
fleecy  clouds  were  forming  at  about  2,400  metres 
just  below  the  peaks  of  the  Pyrenees  and  in  the 
west  and  northwest  thicker  blacker  clouds  were 
gathering,  at  various  levels.  The  wind  was  a 
gentle  one  coming  straight  from  the  west.  I  could 
scarcely  notice  it  in  the  machine  at  all. 

By  two-thirty  the  clouds  around  the  mountains 
were  quite  thick  and  were  rapidly  being  blown 
eastward.  Their  flaky  masses  tumbling  and  rolling 
across  the  peaks  and  off  over  the  lowlands  were 
very  pretty.  I  headed  south  in  order  to  get  over 
them.  It  was  wonderful  to  look  down  on  those 
patches  of  snowy  clouds  of  mist  and  between  them 
see  the  earth  far,  far  beneath.  The  clouds,  from  five 
to  seven  hundred  metres  below  only  seemed  to  in- 
tensify and  increase  the  distance  to  the  ground  al- 
though I  was  still  at  3,000  metres  as  before.  Each 
way  I  turned  the  clouds  seemed  to  be  going  the 
opposite  direction  as  my  speed  was  much  greater 
than  the  wind  which  in  reality  was  continually  driv- 
ing the  clouds  eastward. 

All  this  time  I  hadn't  gone  much  farther  south 
toward  the  mountains  than  Pau,  but  it  was  so  de- 


EDMOND  GENET  247 

lightful  that  I  decided,  as  I  glanced  at  my  watch 
and  found  that  my  necessary  hour  was  nearly  up, 
that  I  would  stay  up  and  do  what  was  strictly 
"interdit"  by  the  school — to  go  southwest  over  the 
20  or  25  odd  kilometres  of  low  foothills  and  get 
actually  over  the  first  ranges  of  the  Pyrenees.  If 
my  motor  hadn't  acted  so  splendidly  all  that  morn- 
ing and  wasn't  doing  so  perfectly  then  I  surely  would 
never  have  attempted  or  dared  to  get  so  far  from 
the  school  when  it  was  strictly  against  the  rules  as 
I  might  very  likely  have  been  kicked  out  had  I  been 
forced  to  land  with  a  bad  motor  near  the  mountains. 
As  it  was  the  kind  hand  of  Providence  was  with  me 
and  I  got  back  without  any  mishaps  and  the  motor 
running  adorably  all  the  way.  The  lowest  part  of 
the  mountains  in  sight  of  Pau  is  directly  west,  a 
bit  southwest,  so  I  headed  in  that  direction  and 
covered  the  distance  in  less  than  a  half -hour.  As  I 
neared  the  ranges  the  clouds  began  to  roll  in  heavy 
masses  both  below  and  above  me — more  thickly 
above  than  below,  but  the  sun  was  still  shining  bril- 
liantly through  the  frequent  rifts  and  the  coloring 
of  the  ground  with  the  little  towns  and  bright  fields, 
the  dark  green  of  the  trees  and  the  white  fleecy 
masses  of  clouds  rolling  beneath  me  like  splotches 
of  cream,  the  splendor  of  the  steep  slopes  ahead  of 
me  which  I  was  rapidly  nearing,  their  tops  covered 
with  snow  and  rising  above  the  clouds  like  so  many 
rough  icebergs  afloat  in  a  tossing  sea  all  formed  a 
picture  as  picturesque  and  thrilling  as  I  have  ever 
seen  in  real  nature.  On  my  right  to  the  northwest 


£48  WAR  LETTERS 

and  ahead  farther  over  the  mountains  dark  oppres- 
sive-looking banks  of  clouds  were  rolling  up  high 
over  the  mountainous  horizon.  I  knew  there  was 
not  much  time  to  spare  if  I  wanted  to  see  my  way 
back  at  3,000  metres  so  I  turned  a  bit  and  headed 
over  a  pretty  valley  with  steep  green  sides  rising 
up  to  snow-capped  summits  which  extended  quite 
a  ways  up  into  the  main  range.  I  passed  the  outer 
rim  of  the  mountains  and  then  turned  east  above 
a  lateral  running  valley.  Looking  down  in  thrilled 
delight  I  beheld  far,  far  beneath  in  the  very  bed  of 
the  valley  a  tiny  stream  winding  down  in  twists 
and  curves  from  the  head  and  all  along  it  were  little 
hamlets  and  farms  and  I  could  see  sheep  grazing 
up  over  the  sloping  farm-lands.  Far  up  the  valley 
was  quite  a  fair-sized  village  but  I  didn't  go  far 
enough  into  the  mountains  to  get  over  it.  Turn- 
ing eastward  I  headed  over  some  of  the  outer  peaks 
which,  snow-capped  and  bare  of  all  foliage,  were 
scarcely  three  hundred  metres  below  me.  I  saw 
no  one  moving  above  the  snow-line.  It  looked 
bleak  but  very  splendid  in  the  sunlight  and  the 
higher  peaks  to  the  south,  which  seemed  very  close 
but  were  in  reality  from  five  to  twenty  kilometres 
away,  were  a  magnificent  spectacle.  I  drank  in 
the  chilling  pure  air  with  delight  and  fixed  that  pic- 
ture so  firmly  in  my  mind  that  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
Then  I  turned  the  machine  toward  Pau,  which  was 
faintly  distinguishable  to  the  northeast  and  sped 
for  it.  The  wind  was  behind  me  then  and  helped 
me  along  considerably.  In  twenty  minutes  I  was 


EDMOND  GENET  249 

beside  Pau.  By  then  there  were  enormous  masses 
of  black  clouds  coming  out  of  the  west.  I  was  be- 
tween two  strata  of  them.  Those  above  me  by  that 
time  about  obscured  the  sun  and  those  below  were 
swiftly  gathering  so  thickly  that  I  had  to  keep  a 
very  sharp  constant  watch  between  them  to  turn 
against  the  wind  to  reach  the  school  and  it  proved 
so  strong  then  that  I  was  fully  ten  minutes  in  getting 
near  enough  to  the  field  to  spiral  down.  I  expected 
to  encounter  rain  when  I  got  below  the  clouds  be- 
neath me  but  I  didn't  and  only  a  few  drops  stung 
me  in  the  face  just  before  I  landed  on  the  field.  I 
spiralled  down  in  one  long  continuous  spiral  from 
3,000  metres  to  800  and  then,  straightening  out, 
headed  in  a  long  volplane  toward  the  aviation 
field.  I  was  two  hours  in  the  air,  landing  at  a 
quarter  to  four,  and  never  have  I  delighted  more  in 
a  flight.  I'm  sure  this  scribbled  description  has  far 
from  visualized  the  real  beauty  of  it,  but  perhaps 
you  will  get  sort  of  an  idea,  a  mind  picture  of  it  any- 
way. One  simply  can't  be  frightened  at  3,000  m. 
—as  there  is  always  plenty  of  time  and  space  below 
one  to  get  down  safely  and  effect  a  landing  on  a 
suitable  ground  if  one's  motor  should  go  dead. 
The  one  I  had  in  that  machine  didn't  miss  fire  once 
all  that  day  and  I  had  it  up  for  four  and  a  half 
hours — 2 1A  in  the'morning  and  2  in  the  afternoon.  It 
was  a  delight  indeed  to  have  such  luck  with  a  motor 
although  I  can  say  that  most  of  the  motors  here  at 
the  school  are  very  good.  I've  only  found  one  or 
two  which  have  caused  me  anxiety  while  running. 


250  WAR  LETTERS 

Division  de  Combat  Aerien, 

fioole  d' Aviation  Militaire, 

Pau,  Basses-Pyrenees,  France. 

December  6th,  1916. 
MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

By  the  fifteenth  I  shall  undoubtedly  be  leaving 
here  and  thus  ending  my  training  as  a  French  pilote 
militaire.  There  will  be  seven  days  coming  to  me 
then  to  spend  in  Paris,  which,  although  I  as  yet 
have  heard  nothing  directly  from  the  Major,  I 
expect  I  shall  spend  at  the  Roosevelt  as  usual  with 
him  and  his  wife.  I  only  wrote  to  him  a  couple  of 
days  ago  telling  him  I  was  quite  sure  of  leaving  here 
on  the  15th. 

I've  nearly  completed  everything  here  now.  I've 
only  a  short  voyage  to  make  and  a  few  more  flights 
in  the  last  class.  I  feel  quite  contented  indeed  to 
be  so  nearly  through,  Mother.  I  want  to  get  out 
to  the  real  thing — the  active  service. 

I  have  your  letters.  They'd  have  been  answered 
last  week  but  I  honestly  had  been  writing  so  much 
that  I  quit  writing  almost  entirely  for  that  week 
to  rest  up  a  bit.  It  seems  to  me  that  it's  an  utter 
impossibility  to  keep  even  with  my  letters.  They 
keep  coming  in  and  piling  up  in  my  letter-box  until 
I  get  desperate  and  scribble  off  replies.  I've  just 
written  one  to  Dave  Wheeler.  I  don't  know 
whether  they  are  in  the  States  yet  or  whether  he  has 
succeeded  in  securing  his  coveted  commission  as  a 
"saw-bones"  in  the  British  forces  and  is  on  his  way 
over  here  once  more  to  put  his  impatient  fingers  in 
this  wild  pie  again. 


EDMOND  GENET  251 

Your  package  hasn't  showed  up  thus  far  but  I 
think  it  will  take  some  time  to  get  through  the 
censor. 

Still  no  word  of  any  sort  arrives  from .  I'm 

getting  mighty  well  disheartened  over  it  all, 
Mother.  How  can  it  possibly  be  that  none  of  my 
many,  many  letters  reach  her  and  if  she  writes  at 
all  now  how  can  all  her  letters  possibly  never  get 
through.  There's  something  mysteriously  wrong, 
I  am  certain.  It's  getting  blamed  unbearably  hard 
— this  waiting,  waiting,  watching,  hoping  business 
and  trying  to  remain  cheerful  all  the  while — and 
write  cheerful  letters  to  other  people.  It's  about 
reaching  the  limit.  I  honestly  feel  a  bit  down  and 
out — mentally  and  heartfully. 

Enclosed  are  a  couple  of  good  views  of  the 
Pyrenees  in  this  section.  The  Pic  du  Midi  d'Ossau 
is  one  of  the  highest  peaks  here.  You  see,  with  its 
altitude  of  2,885  metres  I  could  go  over  it  at  3,000 
metres.  Now  the  mountains  are  much  more 
covered  with  snow  than  the  pictures  show,  as  this 
morning  our  first  snowfall  arrived.  I  was  up  in  the 
air  when  it  came  and  got  caught.  The  machine 
rocked  terribly  so  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  keep  it  top 
side  up  and  a  sharp  watch  for  all  other  machines  in 
the  air.  Needless  to  say  flying  stopped  for  the  day. 

I'll  probably  be  able  to  spend  Christmas  in  Paris, 
as,  leaving  here  on  the  15th  with  7  days'  leave,  I'll 
be  in  Paris  until  just  to  Christmas  Day,  so  will  do 
my  best  to  secure  an  extension  over  that  merry 
day. 


WAR  LETTERS 

We  four  Americans  here  had  a  splendid  Thanks- 
giving feast  the  night  of  the  28th  with  the  Lieut, 
instructor  of  acrobatics  at  the  school.  He  invited 
us  around  to  his  home  in  Pau  and  we  had  the  finest 
dinner  I've  eaten  over  here  in  France.  His  wife 
was  an  Amer.  girl  from  Texas.  There  were  at 
least  8  kinds  of  excellent  wine  that  night,  cham- 
pagne and  a  goodly  collection  of  other  drinks.  My 
head  was  a  trifle  heavy  the  next  A.  M.  but  we  all 
voted  it  an  immense  success.  It  surely  was.  We 
had  luncheon  there  again  last  Sunday.  Lieut. 
Simon  performed  aerial  acrobatics  with  a  50  h.  p. 
Bleriot  monoplane  all  through  the  States  in  1910-11. 
He's  an  awfully  decent  sort  of  a  chap,  about  38. 

I'm  writing  you  and  every  one  every  kind  of 
warmest  wishes  for  a  bright  Christmas  time,  dear 
little  Mother.  I  wish  I  was  going  to  spend  it  with 
you.  Perhaps  in  the  new  year  such  will  be  possi- 
ble. We'll  all  hope  so  anyway — mighty  earnestly. 
Your  devoted  "third,"  EDMOND. 

Division  de  Combat  Aerien, 

ficole  ds  Aviation  Militaire, 

Pau,  Basses-Pyrenees,  France. 

December  8th,  1916. 

DEAR,  WONDERFUL  STAR, 

'Twas  so  long  ago  that  I  penned  you  a  letter  and 
I've  been  disappointed  for  some  time  now  about 
getting  one  from  you  but — tant  pis.  I  want  to  send 
you  my  very  affectionate  wishes  for  the  Christmas 
season  and  the  cloudy-looking  New  Year  which  is 
rapidly  dawning  in  our  near  future.  You  see  I'm 


EDMOND  GENET  253 

a  very  thoughtful  young  trouble.  Perhaps  'tis 
because  somewhere  away,  'way  down  in  the  depths 
of  my  thumping  life  organ  I've  a  suspicion  there's 
more  adoration  for  a  particular  and  popular  young 
star  than  I  dare  to  confess,  but  then  that's  neither 
here  nor  there.  The  fact  before  us  is  that  merry 
Christmas  is  very  close  at  hand  and  requires 
acknowledgment  on  our  parts.  Voila !  Last  time 
when  the  gay  day  came  around  I  was  suffering  in 
solitary  loneliness  out  on  the  bleak  front.  Quelle 
misere!  This  time  I  expect  to  enjoy  it  in  happy 
cheerfulness  in  bright  Paris  with  my  many  delight- 
ful friends  there.  Quite  a  difference  indeed.  I 
expect  to  weigh  anchor  from  all  further  training  as 
an  aviator  on  the  fifteenth  of  this  month  and  then 
have  'til  over  Christmas  on  leave  at  Paris.  From 
there  I'll  go  to  the  aviation  reserve  camp  stationed 
close  to  Paris  and  there  will  wait  in  gluttonous  idle- 
ness, with  frequent  sojourns  in  the  city,  until  I 
am  sent  to  join  our  boys  on  the  glorious  front — a 
matter,  most  probably,  of  a  few  weeks.  Active 
service  in  the  escadrille  sounds  mighty  delightful 
to  me,  chere  Etoile.  I've  spent  6  months  behind 
the  lines  and  the  prospects  of  going  back  to  fly  over 
them  strikes  me  as  being  quite  a  blessing  indeed. 
Want  to  go  with  me? 

I  had  lots  of  fun  doing  acrobatic  stunts  here  last 
month  with  the  Nieuport.  It  was  far  less  sensa- 
tional than  I  ever  suspicioned.  The  one  which  is 
the  most  sensational  is  the  "vrille"  or  corkscrew 
dive — a  feat  never  yet  performed  in  your  peaceful 


254  WAR  LETTERS 

country.  One  turns  his  machine  up  and  over 
backward  on  either  wing  and  then  the  machine 
tumbles  on  its  nose  and  begins  to  spin  like  a  top 
down,  down,  down — as  far  as  the  pilot  cares  to 
drop.  Sometimes  he  loses  his  bean  and  the  result 
is  quite  evidently  disastrous  to  both  pilot  and  ma- 
chine— even  the  ground  gets  disturbed.  Some  day 
I'll  take  you  up  and  we'll  do  it  together.  That  will 
be  when  life  seems  cheap  to  us  both. 

What  would  you  say  if  I  suddenly  walked  in  on 
you  some  day  ?  Well,  I  don't  think  I  will,  so  you 
needn't  have  those  fears  which  just  sprung  up  in 
your  sweet  little  heart. 

The  war  will  take  another  two  years  to  die. 
Things  aren't  appearing  quite  as  cheerful  in  the 
Balkans  now  as  one  could  wish  them  to  be.  It 
surely  looks  dark  for  poor  Roumania.  Bucharest 
is  in  the  hands  of  the  invading  hordes  and  it  looks 
bad  for  what  little  is  left  of  the  country.  It  is  de- 
plorable in  every  possible  way. 

What  are  the  possibilities  of  society  and  the  gay 
life  in  Ossining  for  the  wintry  season?  Have  they 
still  that  Summer  Club  which  held  dances  in  the 
old  de  Lancy  place  the  winter  I  left  the  States  ? 

Best,  best  wishes,  Jeannette,  for  a  mighty  bright 
Christmas-tide  and  a  very  joyful  happy  New  Year 
to  you  all.  I'd  like  to  be  able  to  say  that  to  you 
instead  of  having  to  write  it.  It's  rather  a  long 
way  to  telephone  though. 

Your  affectionate  patron, 

EDMOND, 
Caporal  Pilote-aviateur. 


EDMOND   GENET  255 

Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris, 
December  16th,  1916. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

When  last  you  heard  from  me  I  was  at  Pau  wait- 
ing to  leave  very  soon.  That  happened  on  the  10th 
and  I  came  here  on  leave  with  2  other  Americans 
who  finished  with  me.  I  have  until  the  20th, 
next  Wednesday,  when  I  shall  have  to  go  on  to  the 
aviation  reserve  depot  at  Plessis-Belleville  which  is 
only  30  kilometres  from  Paris. 

I  think  it  most  probable  that  we  will  be  per- 
mitted to  come  to  Paris  over  Christmas.  If  so  I 
shall  have  my  room  here  and  eat  Christmas  dinner 
at  noon  with  the  Major  and  his  wife,  and  the  Har- 
pers have  asked  me  to  have  dinner  with  them  that 
evening  if  I'm  in  town,  so  I'll  have  to  make  space 
for  two  bounteous  feasts  that  day  in  that  case.  I 
want  very  much  to  be  here  that  day  anyway  so 
I  shall  be  able  to  go  to  church.  I'd  like  to  be  in  a 
church  of  my  own  denomination  that  day.  To- 
morrow I'll  go  also. 

Your  package  came  just  the  day  before  I  left 
Pau  and  I  sure  was  delighted  with  it  indeed,  dear 
Mother.  The  underclothes  are  fine.  I  enjoyed  the 
candy  too — particularly  so  because  it  came  from 
Mac's.  It  seemed  like  old  times  to  have  their 
candy. 

Thus  far  I  haven't  been  able  to  reply  to  Helen 
Mead's  nice  note  and  thank  her  for  the  socks  and 
the  half  dozen  boxes  of  cigarettes  she  sent.  They 
were  all  mighty  acceptable.  It's  hard  to  get  Murad 
cigarettes  here  and  I  like  them  very  much. 


256  WAR  LETTERS 

Major  and  Mrs.  Parker  are  being  very  lovely  to 
me  and  I'm  enjoying  my  stay  here  greatly.  I've 
been  with  Helen  Harper  quite  a  lot.  The  other 
night  she  and  her  mother  took  me  to  the  grand 
opera.  We  saw  Samson  and  Delilah  played.  It 
was  lovely  and  the  opera  house  which  belongs  to 
the  State  is  magnificent.  It  was  my  first  time 
inside  of  it.  They've  had  me  to  dinner  several 
times.  I  go  there  this  noon  for  luncheon  and 
Helen  and  I  are  going  to  motor  out  in  their  car  to 
the  school  at  Buc.  I  want  to  see  the  fellows  out 
there  very  much  and  she  wants  to  go  along  for  the 
fun  and  to  see  the  place.  We'll  have  a  snowy  ride,  I 
guess.  It  began  to  rain  this  morning  (it's  rained 
practically  every  day  this  week  as  well)  but  a  little 
while  ago  it  turned  to  snow.  I  had  hoped  to  be 
able  to  take  a  little  flight  while  out  there  this  after- 
noon, but  now  I  won't  be  able  to  on  account  of  the 
weather. 

I  had  luncheon  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guerquin  the 
day  before  yesterday.  That  afternoon  Mrs.  Guer- 
quin took  me  to  see  a  very  interesting  exhibition  of 
war  relics  from  cathedrals  bombarded  along  the 
front,  etc.,  at  what  is  known  as  "le  petit  palais" 
here.  It  was  well  worth  seeing. 

If  it  is  at  all  possible  I  am  going  to  the  front 
mighty  soon  after  getting  to  Plessis-Belleville— 
either  to  a  French  escadrille  or  to  our  own.  Later 
on,  toward  spring,  a  few  of  us  will  form  the  second 
escadrille  of  American  volunteers,  but  that  will 
not  come  for  two  or  three  months.  Meanwhile  I 
want  to  see  plenty  of  active  service. 


EDMOND  GENET  257 

The  French  made  a  splendid  drive  at  Verdun 
yesterday.  That  typifies  the  regard  of  the  Allies 
for  the  Kaiser's  offers  of  peace.  Those  offers  not 
only  were  not  made  in  good  faith,  but  they  were 
made  merely  to  give  an  excuse  to  do  more  horrible 
things  and  be  able  to  lay  the  blame  upon  the  Allies' 
refusal  to  stop  the  war.  The  Germans  need  to 
want  peace  anyway,  but  they'll  never  get  it  that 
easily. 

I've  tried  to  get  a  letter  off  to  Rivers  before 
Christmas,  but  it's  been  hopeless.  I  did  get  one 
off  to  Rodman  a  few  days  before  I  left  Pau.  He 
will  have  a  pretty  lonely  Christmas,  I'm  afraid, 
unless  he  succeeds  in  securing  leave  to  spend  it  in 
Darlington  with  Mary. 

And  you,  dear  little  Mother  ?  I  know  yours  will 
be  lonely  and  not  half  as  merry  as  I  wish  it  were 
going  to  be.  I  wish  we  could  all  be  together,  but 
we  won't.  We  can  be  together  in  spirit  and  that's 
some  consolation. 

If  there's  no  word  from  dear  waiting  at 

Plessis-Belleville  I  think  I'll  have  a  broken  heart 
to  go  out  to  fight  with.  I'm  near  the  end  of  my 
patience  and  fortitude. 

E.  D.  E.,  Division  Nieuport. 

Secteur  Postal  92  A,  France. 

Dec.  22d,  1916. 

DEAR  RIVERS, 

This  is  my  last  place  before  going  to  the  front 
and,  from  all  present  prospects,  I  expect  to  be  going 
out  at  least  next  week,  if  not  before  Christmas.  To 
tell  the  truth  I  am  hoping  it  will  be  after  next 


258  WAR  LETTERS 

Monday  as  I  am  very  anxious  to  be  able  to  spend 
Christmas  day  in  Paris,  which  I  won't  be  able  to 
do  if  I  am  sent  from  here  to  the  front  between  now 
and  then.  After  that  I  want  to  get  to  the  front 
mighty  quickly.  This  place  here — the  reserve 
camp  for  all  pilots  going  to  the  front,  is  not  very 
interesting.  We  can  do  pretty  much  as  we  please, 
but  I'm  not  greatly  attracted  to  remaining  here  for 
a  very  long  period.  We  three  Americans  are  stay- 
ing in  a  miserable  little  country  hole  near  the  camp 
and  it's  rather  uncomfortable.  Then,  too,  the 
weather  is  rather  miserable  and  there's  very  little 
chance  to  get  any  flying  at  all.  Late  this  after- 
noon I  had  my  first  flight  here  with  an  80  h.  p. 
Nieuport.  It  felt  fine  to  be  up  again,  for  I  haven't 
flown  since  quitting  Pau  on  the  10th.  From  then 
until  this  last  Wednesday,  the  20th,  I've  been  vaca- 
tionizing  in  Paris. 

I  haven't  said  anything  to  any  of  you  yet,  but  I 
confess  now  that  I  almost  decided  to  take  a  leave 
I  could  easily  have  secured,  of  15  days  in  the  U.  S., 
not  counting  the  trip  across  both  ways  and  reduced 
rates,  at  the  end  of  this  very  month  to  make  you  all 
a  little  visit.  I  had  all  my  plans  laid  to  sail  on  the 
Chicago  from  Bordeaux  on  the  30th  and  just  walk 
in  and  give  you  all  a  grand  surprise.  I  even  bought 
a  suit  of  civilians  in  Paris  to  wear  over  there  as  we 
can't  sport  any  uniforms  in  a  neutral  country.  I 
finally,  after  thinking  it  over  a  lot,  decided  to  call 
if  off  and  not  take  the  risk  of  any  trouble  over  there 
even  though  my  two  years  is  up  in  early  January 
—the  8th,  I  believe.  My  career  over  here  is  too 


EDMOND  GENET  259 

precious  to  risk  bringing  to  a  stop  now  by  any  fool- 
ishness, and  though  I  sure  do  want  to  see  you  all 
still  I'm  swallowing  my  disappointment  and  am 
staying  here  to  get  to  the  front  quickly.  The  suit 
of  "cits"  will  have  to  wait  unused  until  the  war  is 
over  or  a  later  day  anyway. 

We  witnessed  a  very  disastrous  accident  here 
this  P.  M.  A  Voisin  biplane,  one  of  the  big  bom- 
barding machines,  crashed  to  the  ground  due  to  a 
wire  catching  in  the  propeller  and  both  pilot  and 
observer  were  crushed  to  death.  The  machine 
was  completely  wrecked. 

Very  soon  I'll  be  out  on  the  grim  front  again  and 
flying  out  over  the  lines.  Then  will  commence  the 
real  work  I've  been  training  for  all  these  months 
and  I'm  looking  forward  to  it  with  an  immense 
amount  of  anticipation  and  pleasure.  Why  worry  ? 

I  hope  the  New  Year  will  prove  a  brighter  one 
for  us  all.  For  me  it  doesn't  make  much  difference. 
For  you  and  Mother  and  Rod  it  does.  I'm  where 
individuality  doesn't  count  for  much — we're  just  a 
part  doing  its  part  in  this  great  war  for  a  cause  we'll 
die  for,  but  with  you  all  it's  different.  You  need 
better  times.  God  give  them  to  you,  dear  brother. 

Devotedly, 

EDMOND. 


Roosevelt  Hotel,  Paris, 
Christmas  Eve,  1916. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

Before  me  are  your  two  letters  and  what  more 
fitting  time  to  answer  them  is  there  than  now, 


260  WAR  LETTERS 

Christmas  Eve?  Unlike  last  Christmas  I'm  far 
better  off  to  enjoy  the  bright  day,  but  just  think  of 
it!  This  is  my  fourth  away  from  you.  In  1913 
I  was  at  the  Training  Station  at  Newport,  in  1914 
in  Boston,  in  1915  out  on  the  French  front  and  this 
one  in  Paris.  I  feel  very  fortunate  indeed  to  be 
here  as  I  was  expecting  to  be  sent  to  the  front  from 
Plessis-Belleville,  the  aviation  reserve  depot,  where 
I  went  last  Wednesday  after  completing  my  ten 
days'  leave  here.  This  morning  though  a  demand 
which  I  made  for  permission  to  spend  Christmas 
with  the  Major  and  his  wife  was  granted  to  me  by 
the  commandant  of  the  depot  and  I  came  in  on  the 
10.30  train,  arriving  here  just  in  time  for  luncheon, 
I'm  due  back  at  noon  Tuesday,  so  it  gives  me  all 
of  to-morrow  without  need  of  thought  for  any  even- 
ing train  to  catch  and  thus  I'll  be  able  to  enjoy  the 
two  Christmas  dinners  to  which  I  have  invitations. 
What  more  can  a  lonely  soldier  ask  for  in  a  foreign 
land  on  Christmas  Day  ?  All  the  same,  dear  little 
Mother,  I'd  far  prefer  I  was  back  where  we  all 
could  be  feasting  ensemble  en  famille. 

I  feel  like  a  big  brother  to-day  as  I  helped  trim 
the  tree  for  the  youngsters  at  the  Harpers'  this 
afternoon  and  just  now  finished  assisting  the  Major 
in  decorating  their  little  tree  for  their  two  little 
girls.  I  think  I  told  you  in  my  letter  of  last  week, 
written  while  I  was  here  that  their  two  youngsters 
were  to  arrive  from  America  on  Monday.  Major 
Parker  went  down  to  bring  them  back  from  Bor- 
deaux and  they  arrived  on  Tuesday  morning,  the 


EDMOND  GENET  261 

day  before  I  left.  They're  quiet,  sweet  little  girls. 
The  oldest  is  8  and  her  little  sister  is  two  years 
younger.  They  surely  ought  to  have  a  happy 
Christmas  to-morrow  judging  from  the  pile  of 
presents  arranged  under  the  little  tree  for  them  to 
find  in  the  morning.  We're  all  to  march  in  together 
just  as  you  used  to  have  us  all  do  at  home  on  Christ- 
mas morning — not  so  very  many  years  ago,  dear 
Mother. 

It  was  so  beautiful  this  morning  and  so  vastly 
different  from  the  windy,  rainy  days  we've  con- 
tinually had  lately  that  I  routed  out  early  and  went 
over  to  the  aviation  field  for  a  flight.  We  fly  when- 
ever we  wish  at  the  depot  and  have  very  few  re- 
strictions— particularly  Americans.  I  got  hold  of  a 
good  110  h.  p.  Baby  Nieuport  and  had  %  of  an 
hour  in  the  air  of  real  enjoyment.  I  did  more 
acrobatics  in  that  one  flight  than  I've  done  yet  at 
any  one  time.  It  did  feel  great  to  be  up  in  such 
dandy  weather  again. 

The  day  before  yesterday  I  wrote  to  Rivers  and 
told  him  all  I  knew  of  my  plans.  I  think  it  won't 
be  many  days  now  before  I,  and  the  other  two 
Americans  there  with  me,  will  be  sent  out  to  the 
front — most  probably  to  join  our  own  escadrille, 
but  perhaps  to  enter  some  regular  French  escadrille 
and  later  to  form  the  2d  American  escadrille  when 
a  few  more  of  the  fellows  have  completed  their 
training. 

Understand  that  we  cannot  be  called  officially  the 
American  Escadrille  as  the  States  have  kicked  about 


262  WAR  LETTERS 

that.  We  are  officially  the  escadrille  of  volunteers, 
although  I  have  heard  rumors  that  we  may  be 
termed  the  Lafayette  Escadrille.  That  wouldn't 
be  a  bad  name  at  all. 

G.  D.  E.,  Division  Nieuport. 

Secteur  postal  92  A.,  France. 

Sunday,  January  7th,  1917. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

It  was  Christmas  Eve  when  I  last  wrote  to  you. 
Since  then  has  come  your  letter  written  on  Decem- 
ber 8th. 

On  Christmas  morning  we  got  up  fairly  early  and 
we  had  a  jolly  little  tree  gathering — the  Parkers, 
including  their  two  cute  little  daughters,  some 
friends  of  theirs  in  the  hotel  and  myself.  It  seemed 
so  much  like  our  Christmas  mornings  we  all  used  to 
enjoy  so  much  and  wait  for  with  so  much  impatience 
at  the  dear  old  home.  The  youngsters  had  a  de- 
lightful time  opening  all  their  presents.  I  came  in 
myself  with  a  book  and  an  electric  pocket  flashlight 
(something  I  needed  very  much  too)  which  the 
Major  and  his  wife  gave  me,  and  there  were  heaps 
of  candy  and  candied  fruit  to  be  tasted.  We  had 
quite  a  time  of  it. 

I  went  down  to  the  American  Church  at  10.30  for 
the  Christmas  service  and  remained  for  Holy 
Communion.  The  Major  brought  the  youngsters 
down  for  the  service  also,  but  they  came  in  a  little 
late  and  sat  back  and  didn't  stay  for  Communion. 

At  noon  we  all  had  a  pleasant  little  family  dinner 
at  the  hotel. 


EDMOND  GENET  263 

Along  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  I  took 
a  lonely  walk  down  the  beautiful  Avenue  de  Bois 
de  Bologne,  which  is  one  of  Paris's  prettiest  drives, 
and  then  strolled  over  to  Helen  Harper's  home  for 
the  evening  dinner.  She  had  a  number  of  young 
friends  in  for  it,  including  a  young  American  chap 
in  the  American  Ambulance  service  who  was  going 
several  days  later  with  a  section  being  sent  out  there. 
The  dinner  was  faultless  and  we  all  voted  it  a  big 
success. 

We  got  up  from  the  feast  about  nine  o'clock  and 
then  danced  until  well  onto  midnight.  They  have 
a  fine  Victrola. 

Altogether  it  was  a  decidedly  more  agreeable  and 
less  lonely  Christmas  for  me  than  I  spent  last  year 
away  out  on  the  muddy  front  with  the  Legion  and 
even  better  than  the  1914  one,  for  you  may  recall 
I  had  to  spend  that  one  all  by  myself  in  Boston. 
Where  was  I  the  year  before  that  too  ? — Yes — just 
as  lonely  and  more  so  in  the  Newport  Training 
Station. 

New  Year's  Day  I  spent  out  here.  New  Year's 
Day  is,  with  Independence  Day  (which  occurs 
every  year  on  July  14th),  over  here  one  of  the  big 
days  of  the  year,  bigger,  indeed,  than  is  Christ- 
mas. Every  soldier  in  France  received,  just  as  at 
last  year's  New  Year's  Day,  a  glass  of  champagne 
with  his  mid-day  feast.  It  wasn't  half  bad  at  all 
and  the  feed  was  excellent  as  far  as  army  spreads 

go- 
In  spite  of  the  very  disagreeable  weather  here 


264  WAR  LETTERS 

which  has  prevailed  nearly  all  the  time  I've  man- 
aged to  get  in  quite  a  good  deal  of  time  in  flying. 
I've  gotten  so  terribly  enthusiastic  over  it,  Mother, 
that  I  just  want  to  get  out  to  the  front  and  fly  all 
the  time.  I'll  get  out  there  very  soon  now  from 
all  I  can  tell  at  present,  but  it  simply  is  driving  me 
crazy — this  having  to  be  here  so  long  now  with  no 
absolutely  definite  word  as  to  when  we  shall  be 
called  out.  We  understand,  from  the  lieutenant 
of  our  escadrille  that  there  is  a  machine  for  each  of 
us  ready  and  waiting  with  the  escadrille  for  us  to 
come  out.  Each  is  a  110  h.  p.  Nieuport.  All  I 
want  now  is  just  to  get  out  there  and  drive  into  the 
enemy's  territory  and  do — or  be  done  myself.  I 
hope  earnestly  that  I'll  be  able  to  do  the  former  be- 
fore I  get  the  latter. 

Lufbery,  our  "ace,"  has  already  brought  to 
earth  six  enemy  avions,  which  is  wonderful  work 
on  any  pilot's  part. 

Not  one  word  thus  far,  Mother,  from and 

the  fact  is  simply  eating  the  heart  out  of  me,  every 
day  a  little  bit  deeper. 

To-day  being  Sunday,  there  is  liberty  for  all  of 
us  this  afternoon,  so  there's  no  flying.  It's  time 
for  the  letters  to  be  given  out  though,  so  I'm  going 
over  to  the  Division  quarters  and  see  if  I  have  any. 

I've  been  over  there  for  over  an  hour  now  wait- 
ing for  the  mail  and  it  hasn't  arrived,  so  this  is 
another  day  of  disappointment.  Well — -it's  no 
worse  than  its  many  brother  days  before  it. 


Major  Raoul  Lufbery,  American  Ace  of  the  Lafayette 

Escadrille. 
From  the  painting  by  Lieutenant  Farre. 


EDMOND  GENET  265 

Have  you  read  or  seen  the  book  "Kitchener's 
Mob,"  written  by  a  young  American  fellow  who 
was  in  the  British  forces  in  France  during  most  of 
1915,  James  Norman  Hall?  Most  probably  you 
have  heard  of  it  anyway,  and  if  you  haven't  yet 
read  it;  I  advise  your  doing  so  as  it  is  very  good  in- 
deed. Hall,  as  it  happens,  is  now  an  eleve-pilote 
at  the  aviation  school  at  Buc  and  one  of  our  "hope- 
fuls" for  the  escadrille. 

My  two  years  of  absence  will  be  complete  to- 
morrow, dear  Mother,  and  I'll  be  a  real  outcast; 
can  call  myself  a  genuine  mercenary  soldier  of 
fortune,  a  man  without  a  country.  What  a  title 
over  which  to  boast — only  I  can't  boast. 

Back  in  my  suitcase  in  Paris,  which  I  am  now 
keeping  at  the  Roosevelt  are  two  bundles  neatly 
tied  and  in  order.  One  contains  all  the  letters  you 
have  written  to  me  since  I  left  you — the  other  holds 

all  of  those  from .  Each  time  I  go  into  Paris 

and  have  any  of  your  letters  already  answered  I 
take  them  in  and  add  them  in  order  to  the  pile. 
Yours  I've  been  able  to  add  to  right  along,  but  it 
has  been  some  time  now  since  the  other  smaller 
pile  has  received  any  additions.  I  am  positive 

that  not  one  of  yours  or letters  have  I  ever 

lost,  even  through  all  the  hard  campaigning  with 
the  legion.  They  are  all  there,  little  Mother,  and 
some  day  I  hope  we  can  go  over  them  together.  At 
least  you  will  be  able  to.  You  said  once,  I  believe, 
that  you  are  holding  on  to  all  of  mine.  If  this  is  so 
I  shall  be  very  glad  because  they  may  be  very  use- 


266  WAR  LETTERS 

ful  to  me  some  day  if  I  ever  desire  to  write  up  my 
experiences  in  story  form.  As  it  is  I  am  now  devot- 
ing some  of  my  spare  moments  to  writing  out  quite 
a  complete  and  as  readable  an  account  as  possible 
of  my  experiences  in  diary  form  beginning  from  De- 
cember 29th,  1914,  the  day  I  left  the  "G."  It's 
a  long,  long  task  as  I  find  lots  of  interest  to  write 
about  in  the  majority  of  the  days.  I  purchased 
some  special  blank-page  books  of  140  pages  each 
(size  10  x  5  inches)  and  it  looks  as  though  I  shall 
use  up  nearly  two  volumes  for  each  year  and  this 
is  the  commencement  of  the  third  year !  I  find  it 
very  amusing  and  interesting  writing  though  and 
sometimes  even  quite  sad.  Possibly  it  reads  more 
interestingly  to  me  than  it  will  to  others,  but  I'm 
trying  not  to  make  it  read  that  way  as  much  as  I 
possibly  can.  It  takes  lots  of  time  though,  and,  as 
I  can't  write  every  day,  the  work  is  progressing 
rather  slowly. 

G.  D.  E.,  Division  Nieuport. 

Secteur  postal  92  A.,  France. 

January  8th,  1917. 

DEAR  STAR, 

From  the  whirligig  way  in  which  you  write  I 
guess  you'll  just  have  to  be  renamed  the  "Comet." 
By  the  time  I  had  finished  deciphering  your  "Epis- 
tle to  the  Rum  ans"  I  had  large  doubts  whether  I 
was  on  my  head  or  my  feet,  and  felt  more  like 
calling  for  the  doctor  than  anything  else.  How 
you  do  spin !  You  got  me  all  wound  up  and  then 
deliberately  left  me  there  to  untangle  myself  out 


EDMOND   GENET  267 

of  a  most  hopeless  mess  of  words.  Woman,  have 
you  no  tenderness  in  your  heart? 

You  certainly  put  a  new  one  over  on  society 
when  you  handed  them  "Dawn."  Few  people 
ever  know  what  dawn  is  anyway  and  those  who  ever 
get  up  early  enough  to  see  it  rarely  take  the  pains 
to  look,  so  they  can't  appreciate  what  a  wondrous 
thing  it  is.  Were  you  the  sun  itself,  or  just  one  of 
its  beautiful  baby-pink  rays?  Do  you  remember 
the  little  song  you  used  to  sing  to  me?  Surely 
you  must  still  possess  it.  It's  called  "Dawn." 
Part  of  the  words  read,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
"Men  saw  the  flush  and  called  it  Dawn — Dawn," 
etc.,  etc.  You  take  particular  notice,  don't  you, 
you  young  suffer-er-jet,  that  it  says  men  and 
nothing  about  women  ?  Women,  you  see,  were 
never  up  that  early  in  the  night  to  take  notice. 
Unfortunate  creatures ! 

When  did  I  write  to  you  last?  I  think  it  was 
before  I  left  Pau.  At  any  rate  I  shook  the  dust  of 
that  famous  watering-place  (it  did  rain  a  good  deal 
while  I  was  there)  from  my  soles  (I  have  two  souls 
— one  is  mine  and  the  other  belongs  to  my  left  shoe 
— the  right  one  is  worn  out)  on  December  the  tenth, 
year  of — nineteen  hundred  and  sixteen,  deceased. 
That  was  the  end  of  my  training  as  un  pilote- 
aviateur  militaire  frangais,  and  I  was  permitted  to 
celebrate  that  great  event  with  ten  days  in  Paris, 
where  I  had  a  most  joyous  time  indeed.  My 
stays  in  Paris  are  far  from  lonely  ones  now,  as  I've 
made  quite  a  number  of  mighty  excellent  friends 


268  WAR  LETTERS 

and  they  keep  my  time  pretty  loaded  with  enjoy- 
able engagements. 

Since  the  20th  I've  been  vainly  trying  to  be  com- 
fortable and  contented  here.  This  is  only  a  sort 
of  reserve  depot  for  us  where  we  stay  until  orders 
come  for  us  to  go  out  to  the  front.  It's  about 
thirty  miles  out  of  Paris  and  so  we  can  make  fre- 
quent excursions  to  the  city  when  life  here  becomes 
too  boring. 

I  saw  "Samson  et  Dalila"  played  at  the  Na- 
tional Opera  House  in  Paris,  on  Dec.  14th.  Delmas 
played  the  part  of  the  chief  priest  and  was  fine. 
There's  something  you  not  only  want  to  visit,  dear 
Star,  but  want  to  act  in — the  great  National  Opera 
House  of  Paris.  It's  the  most  beautiful  and  mag- 
nificent opera  house  I've  ever  seen  and,  I  think,  in 
the  world.  Some  day  I'd  love  to  be  in  one  of  its 

boxes  and  hear  Jeannette  H sing  the  Parisians 

to  her  feet.  Greater  dreams  than  that  have  come 
true,  Jeannette. 

Out  at  the  front  with  our  escadrille,  which  is 
now  called  officially  "L'escadrille  des  Volontaires," 
is  a  110  h.  p.  Nieuport  all  in  readiness  for  me  to 
pilot  it  out  over  the  enemy  lines  to  hunt  down  and 
destroy  enemy  machines.  It's  only  a  matter  of  a 
very  few  days  now  before  I  shall  receive  my  orders 
to  go  out.  I  was  so  hopefully  certain  that  I'd  be 
out  of  here  long  before  this  that  the  delay,  due  to  I 
don't  know  exactly  what  cause,  has  made  me  mighty 
fretful  and  restless.  This  place  is  terribly  boring  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  we  can  do  and  do  do  pretty 
much  as  we  like.  When  we  feel  like  flying  we  take 


EDMOND  GENET  269 

a  machine  and  go  up  for  a  flight  and  when  we  desire 
to  loaf  we  loaf.  Some  mornings  when  the  weather 
has  been  too  disagreeable  to  permit  flying  I've 
stayed  in  bed  scandalously  late.  Why  get  up? 
There  are  two  other  American  fellows  here  with  me 
waiting  the  same  as  I  to  go  out  to  the  front. 

Accidents  seem  to  be  happening  'most  all  the 
time  in  the  schools — mostly  due  to  carelessness -on 
the  part  of  the  pilots.  Two  were  killed  at  Pau  after 
I  left,  two  crashed  to  earth  here  in  a  big  bombarding- 
machine  just  after  I  arrived,  and  on  the  Friday  be- 
fore New  Year's  Day  a  pilot  was  burned  to  death 
in  crashing  to  earth  with  a  little  English  Sopwith 
scout-machine. 

The  "ace"  of  our  escadrille,  Adjutant  Lufbery, 
has  brought  down  his  sixth  German  aeroplane  in 
aerial  combat  lately  which  is  splendid  work  on  his 
part.  He  is  among  the  "  aces  "  of  the  entire  French 
aerial  corps  now.  As  soon  as  a  pilot  has  brought 
down  five  enemy  machines  he  is  named  in  the  daily 
French  official  despatches  and  becomes  a  marked 
man.  Lufbery  is  the  only  American  who  has  thus 
far  reached  that  honorable  stage. 

It's  nearly  two  years  since  I  left  the  States, 
J.  H.,  and  I'm  getting  old.  Yes,  I  feel  it,  really. 
Why,  even  my  hair  is  beginning  to  fall  out !  I'll 
be  an  old  man  before  you  will  even. 

Best  to  everybody  and  all  of  yours, 

Your  devoted  manager, 
EDMOND  CHARLES  CLINTON  GENET  !  !  ! 

ESQ., 
Caporal  pilote. 


270  WAR  LETTERS 

Escadrille  La  Fayette,  N-124. 

Secteur  postal  182,  France. 

January  20th,  1917. 

MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

This  is  my  first  full  day  at  the  front  with  the 
escadrille.  Like  most  all  the  occurrences  of  my 
life,  this  change  has  occurred  with  a  jump.  I  was 
sent  out  here  by  the  G.  D.  E.  to  get  a  machine  from 
another  escadrille  here  and  pilot  it  back  to  the 
G.  D.  E.  as  it  was  one  being  discarded  from  use  on 
the  front.  I  arrived  yesterday  morning  and  dis- 
covered that  the  G.  D.  E.  had  already  'phoned  here 
ordering  me  back  without  taking  the  machine  as 
there  had  come  an  order  for  Bigelow,  Parsons,  and 
myself  to  join  our  escadrille.  Instead  of  going 
back  I  stayed  right  here  at  the  order  of  our  captain, 
thus  saving  a  rather  unnecessary  trip  to  the  G.  D.  E. 
and  back  here.  I've  only  a  few  things  of  my  be- 
longings here  as  practically  all  my  outfit  I  left  at 
the  G.  D.  E.,  thinking,  of  course,  I  would  be  back 
there.  They're  in  the  little  hotel  there  where  we 
all  were  staying  and  I'll  be  able  to  get  them  this 
next  week.  Parsons  and  Bigelow  ought  to  be  out 
here  by  Monday  at  the  latest. 

It's  a  big  relief  to  me  to  be  out  here  at  last,  dear 
Mother.  The  rumble  of  the  big  guns  this  morning, 
which  'roused  me  from  beneath  my  warm  covering 
of  four  big  blankets  (for  it's  right  cold  here  and 
we've  snow  all  over  the  ground)  wasn't  new  music 
to  my  ears.  It  seemed  like  old  times,  the  roar  of 
old  comrades. 


EDMOND  GENET  271 

Two  of  your  letters  lie  unanswered,  with  many 
others,  with  my  things,  but  I'll  answer  them  more 
fully  when  I  get  my  things  again. 

It  is  by  a  very  singular  coincidence  that  I  slept 
the  night  before  last  on  my  way  out  here  at  the  very 
same  little  village  in  which  I  slept  the  very  first 
night  I  reached  the  front  here  from  Lyons  with  the 
Legion  in  March  of  1915.  I'll  be  flying  over  the 
very  part  of  the  front  from  which  I  first  faced  the 
enemy  so  many  months  ago  in  those  early  ones  of 
the  war. 

It  may  be  some  time  yet  before  I  have  a  machine 
of  my  own.  Meanwhile,  as  two  of  the  fellows  are  in 
America  on  leave,  I'll  be  using  one  of  theirs.  The 
days  are  persisting  in  being  so  disagreeable  lately 
that  there  has  been  very  little  flying  done  at  all. 

We  are  quartered  in  a  very  comfortable  wooden 
barrack,  two  to  a  room.  There  are  orderlies  for 
each  of  us,  mechanics  for  each  machine,  and  auto- 
mobiles to  go  around  with  it  we  care  to  go  to  any 
near-by  big  town.  We  eat  excellently  and  really 
one  feels  quite  like  a  prince — far  different  from  the 
life  in  the  schools — or  in  the  famous  Legion. 

I  was  with  the  Major  a  couple  of  days  this  week 
before  coming  out  here,  although  he  doesn't  know 
yet,  of  course,  that  I  am  here  for  good.  I  intend 
to  drop  him  a  few  lines  to-day  if  possible. 

Gaylord  Hubbel  in  Ossining  told  Mr.  Harper 
some  while  ago  about  my  having  been  the  first  to 
volunteer  on  board  the  Georgia  to  go  ashore  in  case 
of  necessity  at  Vera  Cruz.  Isn't  it  funny  that  all 


272  WAR  LETTERS 

the  good  stories  about  me  seem  to  be  getting  around 
and  the  others  are  keeping  dark.  Some  day  those 
will  out  and  then  there'll  be  a  mess  of  affairs. 

I  made  my  first  little  speech  in  public  on 
Wednesday  last.  Mr.  Hedin  of  the  Brooklyn  Eagle 
office  in  Paris  took  me  to  the  monthly  luncheon 
of  the  Associated  Franco-English  Press  which  was 
held  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  (one  of  the  best  Parisian 
restaurants)  and  I  happened  to  be  the  only  one 
there  who  was  in  uniform.  There  were  about 
forty  newspaper  men  of  the  French,  American,  and 
British  papers.  The  chairman,  Mr.  Adams,  in- 
troduced two  gentlemen  who  were  to  say  a  few 
remarks  and  then  he  announced  that  the  great- 
great-grandson  of  Citizen  Genet,  who  was  serving 
with  the  French  in  the  war  in  the  aviation  corps 
was  with  them  and  a  few  other  remarks,  and,  of 
course,  I  had  to  get  up  and  acknowledge  as  best  I 
could.  I  didn't  say  very  much,  but  they  all  say  I 
did  all  right  and  lots  of  them  came  up  after  the 
luncheon  and  were  very  pleasant  to  me. 

Do  you  know,  Mother  dear,  that  it's  exactly  two 
years  to-day  that  I  sailed  away  from  little  old  New 
York?  It  seems  impossible. 

Nothing  yet  from  -  — ,  Mother,  and  here  I  am 
going  out  to  fight  feeling  the  way  I  do  over  it — 
discouraged,  lonely,  blue,  distracted. 

Endless  love  and  best  wishes  to  you  and  all,  dear 
Mother,  from 

Your  devoted  "third," 

EDMOND. 


EDMOND  GENET  273 

MY    DEAR    LITTLE    MOTHER, 

January  28,  1917. — My  last  letter,  written  the 
20th,  was  from  the  front,  so  of  course  you  know  all 
about  my  getting  out  here  from  that  one.  I've 
been  to  Paris  since  then,  because  on  Monday  I  flew 
a  machine  in  part  of  the  way  and  then  went  by  R.  R. 
to  Plessis  to  get  my  belongings  which  I  had  been 
forced  to  leave  there  when  I  was  sent  out  the 
previous  week.  I  got  them,  and,  as  the  captain 
told  me  I  need  not  rejoin  them  here  until  Thursday, 
I  stayed  the  two  intervening  days  with  the  Parkers 
in  Paris.  It  was  quite  fortunate  for  me,  because 
I  was  thus  able  to  see  Helen  Harper  before  she  left 
for  Italy. 

Excuse  this  scrawl.  I'm  already  "turned  in" 
for  the  night,  but  am  sitting  up  in  my  bunk  and 
have  a  lamp  beside  me  for  illumination  purposes. 
We're  having  the  coldest  weather  I've  found  since 
coming  over  the  "pond."  These  last  few  days 
have  been  superbly  clear,  but  terribly  cold  and  with 
a  sharp,  biting  northerly  wind.  Everything  freezes 
up.  I  actually  had  to  thaw  out  my  fountain  pen 
the  night  before  last  to  write  up  my  diary  and 
I've  a  bottle  of  ink  which  is  simply  a  solid  brick  of 
iced  ink.  Needless  to  say,  we  heat  up  the  water 
we  use  for  washing  purposes  every  morning. 

I've  got  a  Nieuport  of  my  own  now,  one  which  is 
really  new,  and  to-morrow  I  go  out  over  the  lines 
with  the  escadrille  for  the  first  time.  I  haven't 
been  out  yet  simply  because  there  was  no  machine 
for  me,  and,  in  fact,  I  haven't  been  here  many  days 


274  WAR  LETTERS 

yet,  having  been  in  Paris  after  my  things  a  good 
part  of  this  week. 

For  the  past  two  weeks  I've  been  so  much  on  the 
move  that  I  haven't  been  able  to  answer  letters  or 
do  much  writing  of  any  sort  except  write  up  my 
diary  every  night.  I  always  manage  to  do  that  no 
matter  how  rushed  or  how  tired  I  may  be.  This 
is  the  fifth  year  now  I've  been  doing  that  without 
ever  losing  a  single  day.  The  diary  Rivers  sent  me 
for  this  year  is  the  right  kind,  but  the  company 
didn't  get  up  as  good  a  one  this  year  as  they  have 
the  former  ones.  You  miscomprehended  my  words. 

I  think  I  have  a  mighty  courageous  and  brave 
little  Mother,  for  you  write  that  you  would  like  to 
have  been  with  me  on  that  flight  I  took  up  over  the 
Pyrenees  at  Pau.  Do  you  think  you  would  risk 
yourself  with  your  wild  "third"  in  a  little  flying- 
machine  at  3,000  or  more  metres  (about  9,000  ft.) 
away  above  clouds  and  jagged  mountains?  Some 
day  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  test  your  courage,  little 
Mother. 

We  have  a  very  pleasant  captain  of  the  escadrille, 
and  the  lieutenant  (de  Laage)  is  a  dandy  fellow. 
Of  course,  Thaw,  who  is  a  lieutenant,  looks  out  for 
us  a  good  deal,  but  de  Laage  is  our  regular  lieuten- 
ant. Both  he  and  the  captain  speak  English — 
particularly  de  Laage.  We  all  eat  together  in  one 
mess,  and  our  cook  is  an  Al  man. 

Must  get  to  sleep  now,  dear  little  Mother.  I 
have  to  get  off  to  the  lines  at  7  to-morrow  morning, 
which  means  a  rising  at  6  o'clock.  Flying  these 


EDMOND  GENET  275 

days  is  mighty  cold  work  and  risky,  too,  on  account 
of  the  high  winds.  To-morrow  I'll  be  under  fire 
again — this  time  as  an  aviator  not  a  legionnaire. 
Good  night  and  God  bless  you. 

Your  ever  devoted  son, 

EDMOND. 


Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  192,  France. 

February  2d,  1917. 

DEAR,  DEAR  RIVERS, 

Why  your  letter  of  December  4th  didn't  reach 
me  until  to-day  I  cannot  tell  except  that  it  had,  of 
course,  to  go  to  Pau  and  then  to  the  G.  D.  E.  and 
then  out  here;  but  I've  already  received  letters  of 
much  later  dates  which  have  had  to  take  the  same 
route.  At  any  rate  it's  here  and  I  surely  am  mighty 
well  contented  to  hear  from  you. 

I'm  still  watching  each  mail  with  sort  of  a  for- 
lorn and  dying  hope  for  letters,  but  it  does  seem 
sort  of  a  hopeless  proposition.  Indeed,  I've  been 
getting  downright  blue  and  disheartened  over  the 

whole  affair.  I'm  too  keen  on not  to  have  it 

hurt  like  the  very  dickens  not  to  be  hearing  from 
her  right  along  and  to  be  utterly  in  the  dark  this 
way  over  the  actual  reasons  why  I  don't  hear  or 
why  she  doesn't  seem  to  receive  my  very  frequent 
letters.  Here  it  is  February,  1917,  and  the  last 
letter  I  had  from  her  was  in  early  August,  1916, 
except  for  the  strange  lonely  postal  which  came  in 
early  November — all  of  which  you  already  know 


276  WAR  LETTERS 

from  my  former  letters  to  Mom.  Voila  assez  de  la 
question  du  cceurl  J'ai  une  autre  chose  maintenant  a 
vous  dire.  Ecoute! 

You  ask  me  something  which  both  startles  and 
amazes  me.  Are  you  really  and  actually  serious 
about  wishing  to  come  over  here  and  enter  the 
aviation  corps  to  fight  with  us  for  this  glorious 
cause  and  country  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
are  seriously  thinking  of  following  in  the  footsteps 
of  your  crazy,  hair-brained  kid  brother?  Rivers, 
I  don't  really  know  whether  to  advise  you  to  come 
over  or  not.  Of  course  the  training  is  well  worth  it 
if  one  gets  through  all  right  and  can  return  and  take 
up  aviation  in  the  States.  Undoubtedly  there  will 
be  heaps  of  chances  for  us  back  there  if  we  are 
capable  of  continuing  when  this  big  scrap  is  com- 
pleted and  we're  free  to  return  chez  nous,  but  the 
dangers  and  risks  are  mighty  big  and  to  have  two 
of  us  in  the  game — well,  think  it  over  very  care- 
fully before  you  do  any  moving.  You  certainly 
have — or  seem  to  have — excellent  chances  of  a 
commission  for  which  I  congratulate  you  with  all 
my  heart.  Will  it  really  be  worth  your  while 
to  give  up  all  that,  come  over  here,  run  the  risk 
we're  running,  take  from  six  to  eight  months  in 
training,  take  the  chance  of  being  overthrown  by 
your  own  country  which  you  want  to  serve  and  even 
run  the  chance  of  having  the  war  end  before  you 
could  get  time  to  put  in  any  active  service?  For, 
after  all,  there  are  some  chances  at  least  that  it  will 
terminate  before  next  year.  If  you  do  decide  to 


EDMOND  GENET  277 

come  I  advise  you  to  do  so  well  before  July.  Come 
as  early  in  the  Spring  as  possible — April  will  be  a 
good  month  to  start  in  training.  Be  sure,  though, 
through  a  thorough  medical  exam,  that  you  are 
O.  K.  in  all  physical  matters  and  bring  a  medical 
certificate  with  you,  a  birth  certificate  (if  possible), 
and  you'll  probably  have  to  show  references  that 
you  have  no  German  connection,  which,  of  course, 
will  be  easy  as  the  fact  of  our  excellent  French 
ancestry  will  be  sufficient  to  calm  all  suspicions  and 
also,  I  guess,  the  fact  that  your  younger  brother 
has  already  two  years  of  good  service  under  the 
French  colors  and  is  in  the  Franco-American  Corps 
will  be  enough  to  get  you  in  all  right.  Look  out 
for  your  passport  though — I  don't  advise  you  to 
give  the  real  reason  of  your  coming  over  here  when 
you  get  it.  Say  you  are  coming  over  to  serve  in 
the  ambulance  corps  or  else  some  private  reason, 
such  as  I  used — to  look  up  property  of  your  French 
connections,  or  some  such  reason  as  that — which  I 
think  will  be  better  than  the  former  I  have  sug- 
gested, the  ambulance  work,  as  in  that  you  might 
have  to  produce  papers  from  the  American  Am- 
bulance Service,  etc.,  to  confirm  your  statements, 
whereas  a  personal  family  reason  would  let  you  out 
of  such  trouble. 

How  I  would  like  to  have  you  come,  dear  brother ! 
Think  it  all  over  mighty  hard  though  before  you 
make  any  definite  move.  I  wouldn't  be  in  any 
other  place  myself  for  all  the  world,  but  for  you 
it's  an  entirely  different  question  indeed.  Don't 


278  WAR  LETTERS 

be  rash.  You  already  have  got  military  prospects 
before  you  over  there.  I've  got  to  win  mine  over 
here  and  I've  already  two  years  of  steady  excellent 
service  to  help  me  along  toward  that  end.  Again 
I  say — don't  be  rash.  Heaven  knows,  though, 
dear  Rivers,  I  certainly  would  be  delighted  to  have 
you  here  with  me  in  this  wonderful  big  fight— 
among  this  wonderful  heroic  people. 

If  the  U.  S.  accepts  this  latest  extraordinary  dic- 
tation from  Germany  which  is  in  to-day's  papers, 
about  the  steamship  route  to  England  I  can't 
see  that  any  genuine  self-respecting  American 
should  feel  justified  in  holding  his  head  up  any 
more.  It's  abominable  and  goes  fully  beyond  all 
bounds  of  patience.  Caesar  or  Nero  could  not  have 
dictated  any  more  severely  to  their  slaves  than  has 
the  Kaiser  to  our  country.  It's  simply  dictation 
and  nothing  more,  and  no  self-respecting  nation 
can  stand  it.  Will  ours?  Damn  the  Boches!  I 
hope  and  pray  that  I  can  live  long  enough  to  make 
them  realize  there's  one  American  who  refuses  to 
be  neutral  in  the  face  of  their  confounded  audacities. 

Since  getting  out  here  I've  been  out  over  the  lines 
but  not  very  much  on  account  of  the  weather.  The 
days  have  been  excessively  cold  and  snowy  and 
sleeping  at  night  is  no  really  warm  event.  We 
won't  be  very  active  as  far  as  flying  is  concerned 
until  more  toward  March,  I'm  afraid.  I've  got  a 
machine  of  my  own  now — a  110  h.  p.  Nieuport. 
It's  a  dandy  machine,  but  I  burned  out  two  cyl- 
inders this  morning  just  after  I  started  up  and  had 
to  come  back.  The  cold  weather  has  been  rotten 


EDMOND  GENET  279 

for  the  oil  and  it  froze  in  my  tank  and  the  oil 
clutch.  I  get  a  new  motor  to-morrow  to  replace 
the  old.  The  first  morning  I  flew  over  the  lines  I 
went  4,200  metres  (about  12,600  ft.)  which  is  some 
altitude  for  a  clear  and  very  cold  morning.  The 
view  was  wonderful  and  just  about  500  metres  be- 
low and  to  our  right  (I  was  out  with  one  of  the 
other  fellows)  shells  fired  at  us  from  a  German 
anti-aircraft  battery  were  bursting.  A  light  cov- 
ering of  snow  helped  to  accentuate  the  outlines  of 
the  ground,  the  railroad-lines,  roads,  villages,  etc. 
That  was  one  of  our  exceptional  clear  days  though. 
This  is  surely  no  kid's  game.  It's  mighty  tiring 
and  trying  on  the  nerves  and  one  feels  it  lots  at  the 
end  of  each  day's  flying.  One  has  to  keep  con- 
stantly on  the  alert — and  a  mighty  wide-awake  alert 
too.  Manoeuvring  the  machine  has  practically 
to  be  done  involuntarily — mechanically,  I  should 
say,  and  keep  all  the  senses  absolutely  on  the  alert 
for  the  enemy  and  the  course  taken.  The  enemy 
machines  drop  down  behind  one  with  blamed  sud- 
denness and  then  there's  the  devil  to  pay.  It's 
some  job !  There  isn't  a  great  deal  of  danger  of 
being  brought  down  by  shells  although  there  have 
been  machines  brought  down  that  way — mostly 
with  a  lot  of  luck  on  the  part  of  the  gunners.  Both 
sides,  though,  do  possess  some  mighty  good  anti- 
aircraft batteries. 

Now  write  to  me  immediately  when  you  decide 
what  you're  going  to  do  about  coming  over  here — 
only,  go  thoughtfully. 

Ton  frere  devoue,  EDMOND. 


280  WAR  LETTERS 

Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

February  10th,  1917. 

DEAR  RIVERS, 

Since  writing  to  you  on  the  2nd  things  of  startling 
and  vital  interest,  as  you  know,  occurred  between 
the  States  and  Germany.  It  certainly  seems  in- 
evitable now  that  a  real  rupture  will  occur  between 
the  two  and  within  a  mighty  short  time  also.  Of 
course  it  is  largely  up  to  Germany  to  make  the 
first  hostile  move,  but  we  all  look  for  and  expect  her 
to  make  such  a  move  before  many  days — in  fact, 
yesterday's  papers  reported  an  American  schooner 
sunk  by  Germany  and  an  English  one  with  some 
Americans  on  board,  I  believe,  who  were  lost.  The 
tiny  thread  keeping  the  two  powers  from  actual 
hostilities  will  certainly  break  soon.  The  last  in- 
famous dictation  from  Germany  about  American 
shipping  was  simply  outrageous.  No  nation  could 
accept  it  and  still  be  respected.  Goodness  knows 
we've  swallowed  enough  of  the  Kaiser's  dictations 
and  excuses.  If  this  last  had  been  accepted  I  was 
determined  to  become  a  Frenchman  without  any 
scruples.  Excitement  surely  must  be  tense  over 
there  over  the  crisis  and  the  inevitable  result  which 
may  come  at  any  moment.  Americans  over  here 
are  wildly  excited.  We're  chasing  after  the  day's 
papers  with  considerable  thirst  and  anxiety.  We 
were  all  most  amused  yesterday  when  we  read  an 
article  in  the  Paris  edition  of  the  New  York  Herald, 
which  we  receive  every  day,  of  Ford's  offer  of  put- 


EDMOND  GENET  281 

ting  out  no  less  than  1,000  submarines  a  day  for  the 
government  in  case  of  war.  He  says  a  pacifist, 
when  fully  aroused,  is  like  a  raging  lion.  It's  a 
funny  world  this,  isn't  it  ? 

Indirectly  and  unofficially  we  have  been  told 
that,  on  account  of  our  serving  France  during  the 
neutrality  of  the  States,  we  have  forfeited  our  rights 
of  citizenship.  Most  of  us  don't  credit  the  fact. 
Should  the  States  enter  the  conflict  it  remains  to 
be  seen  just  what  we  can  do,  whether  we  can  enter 
the  service  of  the  States  or  simply  remain  French 
aviators.  The  majority  of  us  seem  to  favor  the 
latter.  We're  here  fighting  the  blame  enemy  and 
well  satisfied  with  the  fact.  If  the  U.  S.  won't 
acknowledge  us  and  the  service  we  could  render 
her  in  war-time — "tant  pis."  We'll  stay  here  and 
continue  to  do  our  little  bit  as  Frenchmen  will- 
ingly. Some  of  the  fellows  hold  commissions  in 
their  State  guard.  Whether  they  will  be  called 
back  or  allowed  to  go  back  to  fill  them  is  a  question 
to  be  solved  when  the  necessity  arrives.  The  U.  S. 
could  take  us  all  over  as  an  escadrille,  promote  us, 
and  let  us  remain  right  here  to  keep  on  fighting, 
increasing  our  number  with  men  from  the  United 
States  aviation  service  who  are  already  military 
pilots.  Will  they  do  that? 

The  present  situation  should  considerably  alter 
your  proposed  idea  of  coming  over  here  to  join  us, 
Rivers.  Surely,  in  case  of  war,  you  can  very 
quickly  and  easily  secure  your  commission  as  en- 
sign and  find  more  good  in  such  a  job  than  coming 


282  WAR  LETTERS 

over  here.  Think  it  over  mighty  well  before  you 
act,  for  you  certainly  don't  want  to  make  a  fool  of 
yourself.  If  you  think  you  can  do  better  by  com- 
ing don't  for  one  minute  let  me  discourage  your 
wishes.  You  know  best  and  personally  I  sure  will 
be  mighty  glad  to  have  you.  Serious  fellows  are 
needed  here.  I'm  no  model  myself,  but  I  am  quite 
positive  that  I'm  decidedly  serious  about  why  I  am 
here  and  my  duty.  Major  Parker  can  assure  you 
of  that  for  he  has  seen  more  of  me  than  any  one  else 
outside  of  the  service.  My  age  and  my  youthful 
looks  are  big  drawbacks  to  me,  but  they're  things 
I  can't  very  well  alter,  so  I  have  to  get  along  with 
them  as  best  I  can. 

Write  soon  and  let  me  know  just  what  your  plans 
are.  By  the  time  this  reaches  you  you  may  be 
under  war  regime  and  thinking  of  fighting  like  we 
are  doing  over  here.  I  haven't  heard  from,  or  of, 
Rod  for  some  time  and  am  wondering  what  is  be- 
ing done  with  him  in  relation  to  the  situation.  Will 
he  be  held  on  the  border  to  guard  against  invasion 
which  may  possibly  be  incited  by  Germany  or 
called  to  repel  internal  troubles  which  will  cer- 
tainly break  forth  should  war  be  declared.  There 
are  far  too  many  Germans  and  pro-Germans  over 
there  to  prevent  such  deplorable  occurrences.  May 
they  all  come  out  the  worst  for  their  damnable  ef- 
forts. 

Best  wishes  and  much  love  from 

Your  devoted  brother, 

EDMOND. 


EDMOND  GENET  283 


Escadrille  N-124. 
Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

February  13th,  1917. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

I  have  been  delayed  in  writing  to  you  for  several 
days  as  flying  and  writing  letters  are  hard  things  to 
do  the  same  day  and  I've  had  quite  a  number  of 
letters  lately  which  had  to  be  written.  I  was  held 
up  for  a  while  with  flying  on  account  of  motor 
trouble  and  a  new  one  was  installed.  Yesterday  I 
tried  it  out  and  this  afternoon  I  spent  two  solid 
hours  over  the  lines  and  feel  almost  too  tired  now 
to  write,  but  there  are  already  two  of  your  letters 
before  me  unanswered  (Jan.  12th  and  17th)  and  I 
feel  I  should  at  least  try  to  get  this  off,  even  though 
I  may  have  to  complete  it  to-morrow.  When  one 
comes  to  think  of  it  there  is  great  possibility  that 
many  days  will  go  by  before  this  or  any  mail  is 
sent  over  to  the  States  or  any  comes  over  here 
from  the  States  for  the  simple  reason  that  reports 
have  it  that  no  ships  are  leaving  with  the  mails 
either  from  here  for  the  States  or  vice  versa.  Com- 
munications will  probably  be  opened  before  very 
long,  as  armed  vessels  will  very  likely  be  sent  out 
with  all  ships  of  American  nationality  on  the  seas 
on  account  of  the  present  critical  crisis  between  the 
States  and  Germany.  I  feel  sure,  as  do  most  other 
people,  that  there  will  be  actual  war  existing  be- 
tween the  two  nations  in  a  mighty  short  space  of 
time — long  before  this  reaches  you.  We  cannot 
deplore  such  an  event.  It  is  the  inevitable  which 


284  WAR  LETTERS 

has  been  coming  all  the  while  and  we  should  be 
very  thankful  that  our  President  has  at  last  done 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  time.  The  people  of 
the  States  seem  to  be  far  too  much  aroused  and 
ready  for  war  to  permit  of  backing  down.  It  is 
only  for  Germany  to  make  the  first  hostile  move  now 
and  it's  a  sure  thing  that  she  will,  sooner  or  later. 
The  rupture  has  gone  too  far  now  to  prevent  a 
complete  severance  and  war. 

My  last  letter  to  you  was  on  January  28th,  the 
day  before  I  made  my  first  flight  over  the  lines. 
Since  then  I  have  made  quite  a  number  of  flights 
but  have  had  no  particular  exciting  experiences 
thus  far.  I've  been  shelled  a  few  times  and  have 
nearly  had  my  face  frozen  in  the  excessive  cold 
which  has  prevailed  these  past  few  weeks.  It  has 
been  bitterly  cold  practically  all  the  while — very 
exceptional  for  France  as  the  usual  French  winter 
weather  is  damp,  rainy — with  occasional  wet  snows 
— and  plenty  of  raw  winds.  It  has  been  marvel- 
lously clear  for  a  long  time,  but  we're  likely  to  get 
the  wet  weather  any  day  now.  This  continual 
clear  weather — and  so  cold — is  very  surprising. 

We  are  having  a  little  difficulty  in  securing  suf- 
ficient coal  and  wood  for  our  fires,  but  we're  manag- 
ing to  keep  our  living-room  warm  and  habitable, 
and  we  cover  up  well  in  our  cold  rooms  to  sleep  at 
night.  One  can't  expect  all  the  comforts  of  home 
in  war-time  at  the  front. 

Our  living-room  where  we  are  most  of  the  time 
while  off  duty  is  a  mighty  attractive  little  den.  We 


EDMOND  GENET  285 

have  covered  all  the  walls  and  ceiling  with  corru- 
gated cardboard  strips  (smooth  side  outside)  over 
the  rough  boards  and  on  this  in  various  places  I 
have  drawn  and  painted  vivid  scenes  of  aerial 
combats  between  French  and  German  machines, 
etc.,  and  here  and  there  I've  made  other  pencil 
drawings  of  girls.  Each  of  the  two  doors  is 
draped  with  attractive  blue  and  brown  curtains, 
the  four  windows  have  white  curtains  (except  one 
which  caught  fire  from  a  lamp  by  accident  last 
night)  and  a  huge  painting  of  an  Indian  head,  the 
symbol  of  the  escadrille  which  is  also  painted  on  each 
of  our  machines.  The  Indian's  mouth  is  open  as 
though  he  was  shouting  his  terrible  war  cry  in  de- 
fiance of  his  enemies  and  he  looks  very  warlike  in- 
deed. It's  quite  an  appropriate  symbol  for  the 
escadrille,  being  something  genuinely  American. 

For  entertainment  we  have  a  pretty  fair  piano, 
which  we  have  hired  from  a  family  in  a  near-by 
village  by  the  month,  and  a  victrola  with  a  goodly 
supply  of  American  and  French  records.  There 
are  at  least  five  of  us  who  have  a  smattering  of 
musical  ability  so  you  can  imagine  that  the  piano 
is  tinkling  pretty  frequently  each  day.  Your 
"third"  does  his  full  share  of  the  pounding  with 
neither  scruples  nor  regard  for  piano  notes  or  the 
ears  of  the  listeners.  'Nough  said  ! 

We  eat  splendidly  all  the  time  and,  as  we  all 
eat  "ensemble"  without  regard  to  military  grade 
(captain  and  all)  it  is  far  more  sociable  and  jolly 
than  in  the  other  tscadrilles  which  have  separate 


286  WAR  LETTERS 

messes  for  officers  and  tmder-grade  pilots.  We  have 
a  very  good  system  here  of  everybody  speaking 
English  throughout  the  noon  meal  and  paying  a 
fine  of  two  cents  for  each  break  into  French.  At 
dinner  it  is  just  the  opposite;  we  all  speak  French 
and  pay  fines  for  any  mistakes  into  English.  It 
helps  us  learn  French  and  the  Captain  and  Lieuten- 
ant, who  are  French,  and  who  can  speak  pretty  fair 
English,  learn  English.  It  works  finely. 

We  each  have  two  mechanics  to  care  for  our 
machines  and  an  orderly  to  look  after  our  personal 
wants,  so  you  see  we  are  pretty  well  off.  We  have 
an  excellent  chef  too. 

Still  no  word  from  and  I'm  far  more  dis- 
couraged than  ever — than  I  can  express  to  any  one, 
dear  Mother.  Perhaps  I'll  hear  from  her  before 
very  long.  I  surely  hope  so,  as  you  can  well 
imagine. 

My  dear  Mother,  from  your  letter  I  imagine  that 
you  think  I  intended  to  go  over  there  on  that  fur- 
lough I  spoke  of  finally  not  taking,  and  never  re- 
turning here.  For  goodness  sake  don't  suppose 
anything  like  that.  It  isn't  what  I  had  in  mind  at 
all.  I  merely  would  have  spent  a  couple  of  weeks 
or  so  with  you  and  then  returned;  besides,  I  found 
out  I  would  be  sent  to  the  front  much  sooner  than 
I  at  first  supposed.  I  had  absolutely  no  intention, 
dear  Mother,  of  quitting  over  here  the  place  I 
cherish  so  much.  Get  such  a  foolish  supposition 
out  of  your  dear  head  quick. 

Mrs.  Parker  is  keeping  my  suit  free  from  moths 


EDMOND   GENET  287 

and  creases,  and  I  don't  believe  I'll  outgrow  it  for 
some  time.  I  wore  it  one  night  while  in  Paris, 
just  to  try  it  and  to  get  a  brief  change  from  a  stiff 
uniform.  It  really  felt  good  too. 

Rod  and  Rivers  have  both  sent  me  pictures  of 
themselves,  so  all  I  want  now  is  one  of  you,  dear 
little  Mother.  Try  to  get  one. 

Must  call  this  off  now  and  get  myself  tucked 
away  for  sleep.  I'm  jolly  well  tired. 

Best  wishes  to  everybody  and  just  heaps  of  love. 

Your  loving  son, 

EDMOND. 


Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

February  13th,  1917. 

DEAR  LEAH, 

It  looks  mighty  like  there  will  be  real  war  con- 
siderably before  this  tardy  epistle  ever  reaches 
you.  You  are  quite  right  in  your  idea  that  every- 
thing will  turn  out  for  the  best.  It's  turning 
quicker  than  we  thought.  The  inevitable  has  at 
last  happened — or  will  very  shortly,  from  all  ap- 
pearances, and  thank  Providence  for  it,  too,  that 
our  President  has  at  last  seen  fit  to  do  the  right 
thing  at  the  right  time.  In  fact,  when  we  look  the 
affair  squarely  in  the  face,  it  was  the  one  thing  he 
could  do — show  the  cold  shoulder  to  Germany. 
Can  you  wish  peace  when  you  realize  the  infamous 
dictation  Germany  sent  to  our  government  over 
American  shipping?  Could  you  walk  a  narrow 


288  WAR  LETTERS 

chalk-line,  doubled  up  and  with  your  hands  behind 
your  back  and  all  sorts  of  other  humiliations  with 
a  loaded  pistol  ready  to  be  fired  at  you  if  you  ran 
off  the  line  and  not  feel  ready  to  contest  your  right 
when  you  had  sufficient  strength  to  do  so?  No, 
never;  and  so  it  is  with  your  country.  War  is  cer- 
tain unless  Germany  backs  down,  and  it's  a  very, 
very  doubtful  question  whether  she  will.  Nine 
out  of  ten  chances  she  won't.  When  we  look  at  it 
from  her  side  we  find  many  reasons  why  she  would 
benefit  by  having  America  at  war  against  her. 
The  greater  part  of  the  munitions  which  the  States 
are  now  sending  to  help  the  Allies  would  have  to 
be  held  over  there  for  our  own  use  as  we  are  greatly 
unprepared  and  undoubtedly  Germany  would  in- 
cite the  Mexicans  to  invade  over  the  border  and  we 
would  need  arms  and  munitions  to  repel  them. 
There  would  be  innumerable  internal  troubles 
throughout  the  whole  country  to  be  repelled,  for 
America  is  full  of  pro-Germans  who  would  do  all 
in  their  power  to  help  their  Fatherland. 

You'll  be  giving  up  school-teaching  yet,  Leah,  to 
don  the  attractive  garb  of  a  Red  Cross  nurse  to  care 
for  the  "poilus"  (French  army  slang  term  for 
soldiers). 

You  see  by  my  address  that  I  am  at  the  front 
with  the  escadrille.  I  came  out  soon  after  the 
middle  of  January  and  feel  mighty  well  pleased  to 
again  be  on  active  service.  Flying  over  the  enemy 
lines  is  wonderful  and  extremely  exciting  work  and 
a  bit  of  a  strain  on  one's  nerves  as  well.  Lately 


EDMOND  GENET  289 

it  has  been  exceptionally  cold  work  also  and  several 
times  I  have  come  near  freezing  my  face — espe- 
cially its  nasal  member.  The  cold  weather  has  been 
rather  hard  on  the  motors — freezing  up  the  oil  and 
making  all  sorts  of  trouble.  It  bids  fair  to  warm  up, 
though,  now,  and  I  predict  a  lot  of  the  usual  French 
winter  weather — such  as  we  endured  last  year  to 
great  displeasure — rain,  sleet,  and  continual  damp 
winds.  We  have  delightful  quarters  in  which  to 
live  here  at  the  aviation  base,  but  coal  and  wood 
are  quite  scarce  and  difficult  to  secure,  so  the  ques- 
tion of  heating  is  often  rather  deplorable.  We  man- 
age to  keep  our  attractive  living-room  comfortably 
warm  and  we  cover  up  snugly  and  warmly  in  our 
wnheated  rooms  to  sleep  at  night.  C'est  comme  ga 
en  guerre. 

We  have  one  highly  honored  man  in  the  esca- 
drille,  so  far,  who  is  one  of  the  French  "aces," 
having  brought  down,  to  date,  six  enemy  aero- 
planes. His  name  is  Lufbery  and  he  has  just  been 
awarded  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  the 
highest  French  medal.  He  already  has  received 
the  French  War  Cross  and  the  Military  Medal. 

You  would  be  quite  startled  to  see  our  mascot  of 
the  escadrille.  Just  at  present  he  is  rolling  and 
frolicking  about  the  floor  with  his  pal,  a  black-and- 
white  terrier.  He  is  an  eight-and-a-half-months- 
old  lion  cub  and  we  call  him  "Whiskey."  He  has 
been  with  the  escadrille  since  he  was  about  a  month 
old  and  is  quite  a  pet  with  us  all.  He  really  don't 
know  whether  he's  a  lion  or  a  dog.  More  than 


290  WAR  LETTERS 

likely  he  thinks  he's  the  latter,  for  all  the  animals 
he  has  ever  seen  or  played  with  have  been  dogs  and 
his  real  companion  is  this  terrier  who  sleeps  with 
him  every  night.  "Whiskey"  is  some  lively  pup 
all  right  and  quite  playful  though  he  growls  as 
though  he  was  angry  at  every  one  including  himself. 
We  can  take  him  up  in  our  arms  and  fondle  him,  and 
while  we  are  eating  at  the  table  he  goes  racing 
around  the  table  from  one  to  the  other  and  climbs 
up  with  his  great  clumsy  paws  on  the  table's  edge 
to  beg  loudly  for  his  share.  Unfortunately  "Whis- 
key "  is  blind  in  his  right  eye,  having  been  hit  there 
accidentally  by  one  of  the  fellows  when  he  was  a 
trifle  too  obstreperous  one  time,  and  it  causes  him, 
as  well  as  ourselves,  some  anxiety.  It  rather  spoils 
his  looks  too.  He  has  a  genuine  liking  for  expensive 
fur  coats,  hats,  leather  jackets,  etc.,  in  fact,  most 
anything  chewable  in  which  he  can  lay  his  teeth, 
so  we  have  to  be  very  particular  as  to  where  we  lay 
our  belongings.  He  has  chewed  up  quite  an  ex- 
pensive amount  already  in  his  young  life.  He's 
worse  than  a  goat  or  a  monkey  in  that  regard. 

Whether  this  will  get  to  you  before  next  year  is 
a  question,  for  latest  reports  say  that  no  ships 
are  leaving  for  the  States  at  the  present  time. 
Possibly  there  will  be  a  mail  route  established  via 
the  North  Pole.  Steamships  between  the  two 
countries  will  very  likely  start  to  run  in  a  short 
while,  adequately  protected  by  war- vessels.  We'll 
be  in  the  self-same  fix  for  mails  from  the  States 
ourselves,  which  saddens  me  considerably.  Don't 


EDMOND  GENET  291 

permit  that  to  stop  you  from  writing,  though,  by 
any  manner  of  means.  Letters  will  get  through 
somehow  before  very  long. 

My  best  wishes  to  you  and  yours,  Leah.  If  you 
become  a  Red  Cross  nurse,  in  the  event  of  war, 
come  over  here  to  work  in  Paris  at  the  Amer. 
Ambulance.  Then  I'll  get  a  German  to  shoot  me 

Your  amiable  "poilu," 

EDMOND. 

P.  S.   Use  the  escadrille's  address  when  you  write. 


Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

February  16th,  1917. 

DEAR  TWINKLING  ONE, 

Yours  of  just  a  month  ago  came  on  Wed.,  so  you 
see  how  prompt  I  am — sometimes.  I've  got  a  terri- 
ble lot  of  other  letters  which  should  be  answered,  . 
but  just  thirty-two  and  a  half  seconds  ago  I  said 
Oh,  d —  hang  them !  and  pulled  out  yours  and, 
anyway,  it  has  been  well  over  a  month  since  I  last 
used  ink  for  your  sake,  so  I'd  better  get  to  it  if  I 
want  to  make  you  take  life  cheaply  and  run  off 
with  me  some  day  in  apple-blossom  time  in  a  one- 
place  aeroplane — you,  of  course,  hanging  on  to  the 
rudder. 

You  see  since  I  last  wrote  to  you  I've  come  out 
to  the  front  and  am  on  active  service.  I  came  out 
just  after  the  middle  of  last  month.  Since  I've 
been  flying  over  lines  quite  a  bit,  but  until  yester- 


292  WAR  LETTERS 

day's  fights  I've  not  had  much  excitement.  The 
weather  has  been  wonderful  of  late  for  flying,  only 
very,  very  cold  and  frosty.  These  last  few  days 
have  become  warmer  and  to-day  a  little  rain  has 
fallen. 

Well,  now,  what  do  you  think  of  peace  and  doves  ? 
War  may  be  hammering  at  your  doors  yet,  Star, 
and  you'll  be  fitting  on  the  pretty  uniform  of  a  Red 
Cross  nurse  and  singing  to  the  wounded  soldiers 
and  looking  more  lovable  every  day, — superlatively 
so. 

Won't  you  drop  in  for  tea  some  afternoon  and 
play  and  sing  for  us?  We'd  just  love  to  have 
you,  dear  Star.  You  could  even  dance,  for  the  room 
is  fairly  big  with  a  stove  in  the  middle  to  make  it 
comfortable  these  chilly  days.  Please  come ! 

Au  revoir.  Yours, 

EDMOND. 

February  20th,  1917. 

MY  DEAR  UNCLE  CLAIR, 

Since  writing  to  you  last  I  have  completed  my 
training  as  an  "aviateur  militaire"  and  have  come 
to  the  front.  I  joined  our  escadrille  of  American 
volunteers  soon  after  the  middle  of  January  and 
have  been  flying  on  active  service  ever  since — 
when  the  weather  permitted.  Up  until  this  last 
week  it  has  permitted  pretty  regular  flying  and  I've 
seen — or  rather  participated — in  some  very  ex- 
citing combats  with  enemy  airmen.  On  Thurs- 
day morning  of  last  week  I  got  into  a  hot  old 


EDMOND  GENET  293 

scrap  with  two  enemy  biplane  machines  quite  a 
ways  back  of  their  first  line,  and  only  four  hundred 
metres  over  several  of  their  anti-aircraft  batteries. 
I  succeeded  in  driving  both  adversaries  earthward 
after  some  lively  manoeuvring  and  exchanging  of 
machine-gun  fire,  but  the  batteries  made  it  decid- 
edly hot  for  me  after  it  was  over.  I  made  swift 
tracks  for  the  upper  atmosphere  in  a  good  zigzag 
course  to  outwit  the  range-finders  at  their  nasty 
game  of  placing  shells  under  my  tail  and  around  my 
wings  in  attempts  to  clip  them  for  me.  Life  here 
is  not  all  one  long  sweet  idle  dream. 

A  final  break  with  the  Central  Powers  certainly 
seems  inevitable  for  the  States  before  very  many 
days.  Everything  seems  to  point  that  way. 
Really  when  one  looks  at  the  thing  squarely  in  the 
face  it  would  seem  that  Germany  will  really  benefit 
by  having  the  States  join  the  Entente  Powers 
against  her.  It  would  tend  to  greatly  reduce  the 
present  output  of  munitions  from  the  States  to  the 
Allies  as  they  would  be  forced  to  make  them  to 
increase  our  absurdly  small  supply,  other  supplies 
now  being  sent  over  here  would  be  greatly  dimin- 
ished. Germany  could  incite  an  invasion  on  OUT 
southern  border  by  the  Mexicans  and  innumerable 
quantities  of  internal  troubles  on  the  part  of  the 
pro-Germanic  subjects  of  our  free-born  country — 
one  of  the  most  deplorable  facts  to  be  faced  in  the 
event  of  war — and  the  blockade  which  German 
submarines  are  waging  could  extend,  without 
question  of  neutrality,  to  American  commerce  aid- 


294  WAR  LETTERS 

ing  the  Allies.  It  would  shorten  the  duration  of 
the  war  without  much  doubt,  but  in  the  end  it 
would  be  Germany's  profit.  Every  one  connected 
with  diplomatic  matters  seems  to  be  practically 
certain  of  actual  hostilities  within  a  mighty  short 
time.  Thank  Providence  that  President  Wilson 
at  last  took  the  stand  he  did  when  such  outrageous 
dictations  were  sent  by  Germany  on  American 
shipping.  It  was  astounding  and  enough  to  roil 
the  most  pacific  of  pacific  American  citizens.  It's 
utterly  deplorable  that  it  didn't  roil  our  eminent 
statesman,  W.  J.  Bryan.  So  one  ought  to  take 
violent  measures  against  him. 

We  are  delightfully  situated  with  regard  to  quar- 
ters and  in  spite  of  the  scarcity  of  coal  we  manage 
to  keep  warm  in  our  attractive  little  living  (and 
mess)  room.  We  eat  splendidly  and  have  good 
times  when  off  duty.  We've  hired  a  piano  from  a 
family  in  a  near-by  village  and  have  a  small  vic- 
trola  with  a  good  supply  of  American  and  French 
records  to  amuse  us  and  our  French  aviation  friends. 
There  are  at  least  five  of  us  who  can  make  the  ivories 
sound  to  certain  degrees  like  real  music. 

The  Christmas  holidays  passed  ^o  quickly  that 
I  didn't  get  much  chance  to  write.  I  had  a  few 
days  in  Paris  after  leaving  Pau  on  Dec.  10th  and 
spent  Christmas  Day  there  also,  but  was  pretty 
busy  the  rest  of  the  time  with  flying  and  then  I 
came  out  here  in  January.  Now  it's  all  grim  work 
until  the  conflict  ends  some  day  in  next  year,  or  the 
one  after  that. 


EDMOND   GENET  295 

Love  and  warmest  wishes  to  you  all  and  every 
best  wish  for  this  new  year. 
Affectionately, 

EDMOND  C.  C.  GENET, 

Caporal  Pilote. 


Escadrille  N-124. 
Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

February  24th,  1917. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

I  haven't  written  to  you  since  the  thirteenth  and 
you  must  be  thinking  something  has  happened  to 
me  although  I  have  written  to  Rod  since  that  date 
and  you'll  see  his  letter  most  likely  by  the  time  this 
gets  to  you.  Thus  you  will  know  that  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  fifteenth  I  had  my  first  two  real  aerial 
combats  and,  as  I  told  him  all  'about  them,  etc., 
I  needn't  go  into  details  here  all  over  again.  Since 
then  the  days  have  been  extremely  dull  and  muggy, 
and  we've  done  practically  no  flying  at  all.  I've 
used  a  good  deal  of  the  time  in  writing  letters  and 
notes  in  my  memorandum,  etc.,  and  my  war- 
diary,  but  haven't  half  succeeded  in  diminishing 
the  pile  of  letters  I  had  to  answer. 

Thursday  of  this  week  several  of  us  motored  up 
to  see  the  Legion  which  we  learned  was  stationed 
not  far  from  where  we  are,  and  I  saw  several  of  my 
old  fighting  mates  including  the  little  South  Ameri- 
can friend  of  whom  you  must  remember  my  writing 
about  quite  frequently.  He  was  well  and  we  were 


296  WAR  LETTERS 

both  mighty  glad  to  see  each  other  again.  I've 
written  to  him  off  and  on  as  he  has  to  me,  and 
have  sent  him  some  magazines  and  lately  some 
cigarettes.  We  may  run  up  there  again  before 
long  as  several  of  us  have  been  "legionnaires" 
and  we  know  many  old  comrades  who  are  still 
there.  My  old  4th  Company  is  now  the  2d. 
Although  Ester,  the  S.  A.,  is  in  the  9th.  They 
were  quartered  in  as  muddy  and  desolate  a  little 
hamlet  as  you  could  ever  imagine.  They've  been 
holding  the  trenches  in  the  very  same  secteur  where 
we  were  in  May  and  June  of  1915.  Every  time  I 
fly  over  the  lines  I  go  over  that  part  and  several 
other  parts  wherein  I  have  lived  and  suffered  in 
rain  and  mud  and  bombardment  with  the  Legion. 
It  brings  back  all  the  old  days  every  time  I  gaze 
down  on  those  spots  from  my  Nieuport.  My  fight 
of  last  week  was  directly  over  a  fair-sized  town  just 
behind  the  enemy's  lines  toward  which  I  used  to 
gaze  on  many  a  weary  guard  in  our  trenches.  I 
never  thought  then  that  I'd  be  a  birdman  and 
flying  over  those  hostile  lines  far  into  the  enemy's 
territory.  It  felt  good  to  go  back  and  see  the 
Legion  and  realize  that  I  no  longer  was  one  of  them, 
though  I  sure  don't  regret  the  times  I  spent  with  it. 
Some  officers  are  coming  to  have  dinner  with  us 
this  evening,  so  I  must  quit  this  and  get  tidied  up, 
as  it's  near  the  hour  now.  All  kinds  of  love,  dear 
little  Mother,  and  heartiest  wishes  to  all. 

Ever  your  devoted  "poilu," 
EDMOND. 


EDMOND  GENET  297 

Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

March  5th,  1917 

DEAR  RIVERS, 

Most  hearty  congratulations  for  winning  your 
commission.  It's  surely  splendid  and  I'm  as  de- 
lighted as  any  one  could  ever  be  over  it,  too,  dear 
brother.  You  certainly  deserved  it.  You  studied 
and  worked  hard  enough  for  it,  I'm  sure.  I'm  glad 
"Mac"  won  his  lieutenancy,  too.  He  must  feel 
fine  over  that.  Now,  b'gosh,  I've  got  to  stand  at 
attention  and  call  you  "Sir."  I'm  only  a  bloomin' 
caporal,  though  I  may  be  a  sous-officier  by  the  time 
this  reaches  you  as  I  have  nearly  flown  enough 
hours  over  the  enemy  lines  to  receive  my  promo- 
tion. Even  then  I  wouldn't  want  to  change  places 
with  you  in  spite  of  your  stripe.  This  is  too  won- 
derful a  life  over  here  with  entirely  too  many  possi- 
bilities of  stripes  in  the  future. 

The  day  before  yesterday  we  had  a  hurried  call 
to  chase  a  German  machine  inside  our  lines,  and 
I  was  the  first  to  start  out.  I  was  in  so  much  of  a 
hurry  to  get  off  that  I  started  out  with  the  wind 
too  much  on  one  side,  and  it  turned  me  over  in  less 
time  than  you  can  think  of  it.  The  machine 
was  completely  smashed  up.  I  was  mad  as  any 
one  could  be.  I  didn't  even  get  a  scratch  either. 

Yesterday  I  got  lost  while  at  4,000  metres  over 
the  enemy  lines  (I  went  in  alone  more  than  forty 
miles  in  the  morning)  and  I  landed  away  down  at 
Paris.  The  mist  was  terrible.  I  filled  up  with 


298  WAR  LETTERS 

fuel,  returned  to  the  lines  and  got  lost  once  more 
away  up  in  the  English  sector  north  of  the  Somme, 
and  had  to  land  at  one  of  their  aviation-camps  to 
find  out  where  I  was.  Coming  down  the  lines 
again,  I  ran  out  of  fuel  and  had  to  land  at  a  French 
aviation-camp  to  replenish  my  stock,  had  lunch 
with  an  escadrille  there  and  returned  chez  nous 
afterward.  Altogether  I  covered  about  450  kilo- 
metres between  7.40  and  2.00  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon— about  4  hours'  flying.  I  was  some  tired,  as 
the  mist  was  extremely  thick  and  it  was  nerve- 
racking  to  pilot  through  it. 


Escadrille  N-124. 
Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

March  8th,  1917. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE  MOTHER, 

I  am  answering  your  letter  of  February  7th,  which 
arrived  several  days  ago.  On  the  5th,  I  answered  a 
letter  from  Rivers  which  I  received  the  previous 
day  telling  me,  among  other  things,  that  he  really 
had  passed  the  exams,  and  had  received  his  coveted 
commission  as  Ensign  in  the  8th  Div.  I  sure  was 
delighted  over  that  fine  piece  of  news.  It's  splendid 
and  he  deserves  all  possible  credit  for  his  efforts. 
I  presume  it  is  as  you  write — that  Rod  will  have  to 
remain  a  much  longer  time  than  was  expected, 
down  along  the  border  while  the  country  is  on  the 
brink  of  a  possible  war.  He  must  be  completely 
fagged  out  with  the  place  there. 

Do  please,  dear  Mother,  be  easy  with  yourself. 


EDMOND  GENET  299 

Recognize  the  fact  that  you  are  too  well  along  in 
life  to  be  working  as  hard  and  taking  as  many  risks 
to  your  health  as  you  used  to  do  and  were  able  to 
stand.  You  simply  won't  be  able  to  stand  it  very 
long,  but  will  break  down  and  then  where  will  you 
be?  Do  be  careful,  Mother. 

The  day  before  yesterday  I  got  my  nose  and  one 
cheek  all  frozen  while  flying  over  the  lines.  Yester- 
day the  skin  had  all  peeled  off,  but  I  put  vaseline 
over  it  and  now  the  new  skin  is  forming.  I'm  a 
sight  though,  for  the  present,  although  it  isn't  very 
painful.  I  guess  I  really  started  to  freeze  up  last 
Sunday  for  that  morning  I  was  up  in  the  air  nearly 
five  steady  hours,  and  it  was  extreme  chilly,  and 
then  the  sharp  wind  of  the  day  before  yesterday 
finished  up  the  job.  I  scarcely  noticed  the  chill 
wind  at  the  time. 

Last  Sunday  I  was  far  into  the  German  territory 
and  got  lost.  I  shouldn't  have  gotten  lost  but  the 
mists  all  around  were  extremely  thick  and  all  I 
could  see  was  the  ground  directly  below  me — a 
matter  of  4,000  metres  beneath  me — and  it  was 
really  simply  luck  that  I  got  back  over  French  ter- 
ritory, instead  of  getting  more  into  enemy  territory, 
before  I  ran  out  of  fuel  and  had  to  land  at  an  avia- 
tion-camp. After  filling  up  I  returned  to  the  lines 
and  got  lost  again  up  in  the  sector  of  the  British 
forces  and  had  to  land  at  one  of  their  aviation-camps 
to  find  out  where  I  was.  Altogether  I  was  in  the 
air  nearly  five  hours  that  morning.  It  was  quite 
a  trying  experience  as  the  mists  were  almost  too 


300  WAR  LETTERS 

thick  to  make  out  one's  direction.  The  only  thing 
that  I  could  rely  on  was  my  compass. 

The  Captain  just  asked  me  if  I  knew  what  were 
the  sufferings  of  the  men  in  the  trenches  during 
winter  days  such  as  we're  having  now.  I  guess  he 
doesn't  quite  realize  that  I've  had  two  winters  out 
there  with  them.  I  realize  as  well  as  any  of  them 
what  misery  the  troops  suffer  out  there  along  those 
chill,  wet,  muddy  lines.  My  own  experiences  there 
haven't  been  in  any  degree  more  comfortable  than 
those  of  any  of  them. 

Several  of  us  motored  over  a  second  time  last 
week  to  see  the  Legion,  as  it  is  near  us  in  repose. 
We  saw  several  of  the  Americans  still  in  it  and  had 
three  of  them  over  to  dine  with  us  one  day.  One  of 
the  fellows,  Casey  by  name,  is  from  the  art  sections 
of  Paris,  where  he  worked  previous  to  the  war,  and 
we're  trying  to  secure  permission  for  him  to  come 
over  here  for  several  days  to  draw  our  pictures. 
He  wants  to  do  so  very  much  indeed.  He  is  one 
of  those  who  joined  the  Legion  in  August,  1914. 

Must  close  now.  It's  lunch-time.  If  I'm  in 
Paris  on  Sunday  you  may  be  sure  I'll  be  on  hand 
at  the  American  Church  for  the  morning  service- 
perhaps  also  for  early  communion. 

My  name  has  been  put  in  by  the  Captain  for 
promotion  to  the  grade  of  Sergeant,  so  I  guess  by 
another  fifteen  days  I'll  be  one  and  be  drawing 
about  80  cents  a  day  for  pay. 

Heaps  of  love,  dear  little  Mother.  God  bless 
you. 


EDMOND  GENET  301 

Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

March  15th,  1917. 

MY  DEAR  RIVERS, 

Yours  from  the  " Granite  State"  came  a  day  or  so 
ago.  In  fact,  I  found  it  waiting  here  when  I  got 
back  on  Monday  afternoon  from  spending  the 
week-end  in  Paris. 

It  is  fortunate  that  I  got  in  when  I  did,  for  an 
order  was  issued  yesterday  suspending  indefinitely 
all  leave  on  account  of  forthcoming  activities  on  the 
front.  I  managed  to  do  all  that  I  wished  while 
there,  so  it  doesn't  cut  much  ice  with  me  one  way 
or  the  other  now. 

It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  right  about  the  price 
of  your  mess  being  a  trifle  steep,  although,  of  course, 
you  have  to  think  of  the  service  and  the  position. 
We,  ourselves,  over  here  in  actual  war  are  paying 
about  six  francs  ($1.20)  apiece  a  day  for  our  fare 
and  that  does  not  include  service.  We  eat  splen- 
didly— except  for  the  service — I've  no  doubt  but 
that  we  eat  just  as  well  as  do  you.  The  Franco- 
American  Corps  gives  us  so  much  a  month  to  help 
pay  for  our  mess. 

My  present  pay  is  only  about  48  cents  a  day  as  a 
corporal,  but  I've  already  been  proposed  for  ser- 
geant and  the  order  should  come  in  soon.  I'm  prac- 
tically drawing  the  pay  now  because  when  the  order 
comes  it  will  read  from  the  day  I  was  proposed— 
the  10th — so  I'll  get  pay  from  that  date.  A  ser- 
geant's pay  per  month  is  about  240  francs  which  is 


302  WAR  LETTERS 

roughly  $48.  That  is  a  big  jump  from  corporal 
you  see.  Besides  that,  each  of  us  receives  about 
$20  a  month  for  personal  use,  from  the  F.  A.  Corps, 
so  you  see  we  get  nearly  $70  per  month  as  sergeant, 
quite  sufficient  on  which  to  exist  comfortably. 

War  seems  far  more  certain  now  for  you  than  it 
did  when  I  last  wrote.  Every  one  over  here  con- 
nected with  the  military  side  of  the  U.  S.  says  war 
is  merely  a  question  of  days  now.  Major  Parker 
seems  sure  of  it.  Another  thing  (I  don't  give  it 
much  credit  yet,  but  it's  worth  thinking  about) 
is  that  I  have  heard  very  indirectly  lately  that  there 
are  commissions  already  at  Paris  for  all  of  us  to  be 
given  immediately  in  the  event  of  war — commis- 
sions appointing  us  either  first  or  second  lieutenants 
— according  to  our  merits  here  on  the  front — in  the 
U.  S.  Naval  Aviation  service.  We  would  simply 
be  taken  over  by  our  government,  be  commis- 
sioned, and  remain  here  on  the  front  as  we  are  now. 
All  that  seems  a  good  deal  to  be  so.  Major  Parker 
assures  me  he  feels  sure  that  I  shall  find  no  difficulty 
in  getting  cleared  should  war  come  on.  I'm  not 
worrying  about  it  too  much,  though  it  is  on  my 
mind  all  the  time.  He  tells  me  not  to  cross  any 
bridges  before  I  come  to  them,  which  I'm  follow- 
ing as  pretty  good  advice. 

You're  right  about  not  having  very  exciting  pros- 
pects ahead  of  you  should  war  come,  if  you  all  are 
to  be  in  the  coast-patrol  reserve  fleet.  Maybe 
you'll  be  on  the  Georgia.  She's  in  the  Phila.  Navy 
Yard  attached  to  the  reserve  force  now,  I  believe. 


EDMOND  GENET  303 

You  might  have  exciting  times,  even  then,  along 
the  coast  with  submarines,  but  it's  doubtful  at  that. 

There's  coming  a  time  when  the  Aviation  service 
will  be  completely  separate  from  both  the  Army 
and  Navy — the  real  Fifth  Arm.  It  should  really 
be  that  way  anyhow.  You  ask  me  for  an  essay 
on  French  aviation  if  it  is  permissible  for  me  to 
write  about  it.  There  are  lots  of  things  I  can't 
tell  you  about  on  account  of  their  secrecy,  but  I 
guess  it  won't  bring  any  harm  to  either  the  French 
government  or  myself  to  give  you  the  following 
facts : 

All  aviation  corps  are,  of  course,  divided  into  the 
following  groups:  bombardment,  artillery  regula- 
tion, reconnoitring  and  chase  and  combat.  The 
latter  (chase  and  combat)  is  the  kind  to  which  we 
belong.  It  is  composed  of  the  smaller,  lighter,  and 
faster  machines.  The  French  use  very  few  avions 
de  chasse  carrying  two  men.  Practically  all  are 
monoplace  machines.  These  comprise  the  Nieu- 
port  and  Spad  (both  biplane  avions)  and  the  Morane 
monocock  (not  very  much  used).  It  is  a  mono- 
plane. You  probably  already  know  what  functions 
we  have — protecting  our  lines  and  territory  from 
invasion  by  hostile  machines  in  order  to  prevent 
photographic  work,  reconnoitring,  artillery  re- 
glage,  and  bombardment.  We  also  protect  our 
own  machines  of  these  last  types  over  the  enemy 
territory,  although  very  exceptionally  because 
there  are  certain  escadrilles  de  chasse  which  are 
attached  to  these  other  groups  as  their  protectors. 


304  WAR  LETTERS 

Our  chief  duty  is  to  patrol  over  the  lines — some- 
times only  along  the  lines  themselves,  and  other 
times  going  well  into  the  enemy's  territory  to  hunt 
down  their  machines,  at  the  same  time  keeping 
our  eyes  open  for  movements  of  their  troops,  etc. 

We  generally  go  in  groups  of  from  two  to  four,  or 
occasionally  six — very  rarely  alone,  particularly 
inside  the  German  lines. 

Reconnoitring  and  photography  work  is  done 
principally  by  biplace  machines  such  as  the  Sop- 
with,  the  bimotor  Caudron  and  the  Morane  Parasol. 
This  last  is  used  more  by  the  British  than  by  the 
French.  Farman  biplanes  do  photography  work, 
but  their  chief  function  is  artillery  regulation. 
The  bombarding  expeditions — particularly  those 
carried  on  in  the  night  at  long  distances — are 
effected  by  the  heavy  Voisin  biplanes  and  fre- 
quently by  Farmans.  The  Voisins  are  armed  with 
a  one-pounder  cannon  as  well  as  a  machine-gun. 
Sopwith  monoplane  machines  are  excellent  as  they 
are  fairly  rapid,  easily  manoeuvred,  are  armed  with 
two  machine-guns — one  forward,  fixed  stationary  on 
the  plane  superieure  and  fired  by  the  pilot  from  his 
seat,  and  the  second  in  the  rear  beside  the  gunner, 
from  where  he  can  aim  and  fire  it  in  practically 
every  direction — and  they  can  offer  a  very  formida- 
ble resistance  when  attacked.  The  Morane  Para- 
sols (the  one  plane  is  above  the  fusillage,  giving 
it  the  appearance  of  a  parasol)  are  likewise  ex- 
cellent for  observation  and  photography,  having, 
like  the  Sopwith,  two  machine-guns  mounted  in 


EDMOND  GENET  305 

the  same  positions  and  therefore  are  easily  defended. 
They  are  more  fragile  and  dangerous  to  handle, 
though,  than  the  Sopwith,  and  therefore  are  not 
quite  so  good. 

The  bimotor  Caudron  biplanes  are  excellent, 
fast,  and  very  easy  to  manoeuvre.  They  are  armed 
with  one  machine-gun  (movable)  and  the  gunner 
(who  is  also  the  observer)  is  placed  forward  of  the 
pilot.  The  Farman  machines  are  along  somewhat 
these  same  lines,  but  are  much  slower  and  far  more 
difficult  to  handle  quickly,  presenting,  therefore, 
much  less  resistance  to  attack — especially  from  the 
rear. 

The  motors  made  in  France  and  used  in  aviation 
are  far,  far  superior  to  any  made  in  America.  The 
English  use  French  motors  in  their  planes  almost 
entirely.  Germany  has  excellent  motors,  but  two 
are  merely  copied  from  French  ones.  Their  Mer- 
cedes is  as  good  as  any  motor.  The  French  Rh6ne 
rotary  motor,  though,  far  excels  any  other  both  in 
simplicity  of  running  and  in  strength  and  dura- 
bility. You  will  see  in  many  American  aviation 
periodicals  the  advertisements  of  the  Gnome  rota- 
tive motor  and  it  is  used  a  great  deal  there  in  aero- 
planes. Over  here  it  is  only  used  by  the  French  on 
some  of  their  machines,  such  as  the  Bleriot  mono- 
plane, -which  are  used  in  their  schools.  The  Rhone 
rotary  is  an  improvement  on  the  Gnome  and  it's  a 
great  improvement  too.  The  French  also  have  a 
rotary  motor — the  Clerget — which  is  very  good. 

I  guess  Fve  written  enough  about  French  avia- 


306  WAR  LETTERS 

tion  for  you  now  without  overstepping  the  limits 
of  secrecy.  I  hope  so.  Ask  me  any  questions, 
though,  which  you  wish  to  and  I'll  answer  them  if 
permissible  or  I  can. 

You  can  probably  find  some  fairly  good  books 
on  aviation  over  there  and  talk  as  much  as  possi- 
ble with  aviation  men,  but  don't  believe  all  they 
say  to  you.  Aviation  is  a  pretty  poorly  known 
subject  over  there  yet.  They  haven't  had  one- 
eighth  of  the  practical  experience  which  the  French 
have  gained  over  here  since  August,  1914.  And 
they  have  largely  profited  by  it. 

"Jim"  MacConnell,  one  of  the  fellows  here  who 
wrote  such  a  good  article  about  the  escadrille  in 
the  Atlantic  Monthly  has  had  a  longer  account 
published  in  book  form,  called  "Flying  for  France," 
by  James  M.  MacConnell.  You  should  get  it  and 
read  it,  for  it  is  mighty  well  written  and  true. 

Don't  let  the  Boche  blow  up  anything  around  old 
Manhattan  Isle.  They've  done  sufficient  damage 
already.  To-day's  paper  says  they  have  just  tor- 
pedoed "sans  avertissement"  the  Algonquin,  car- 
rying the  American  flag. 

I  hope  some  one  of  our  armed  merchant-vessels 
see  and  fire  upon  a  German  U-boat  without  any 
warning  soon  and  sink  it.  They've  got  orders 
to  do  just  that,  so  let  them  do  it.  Strafe  the 
damned  Boches ! 


EDMOND  GENET  307 

Escadrille  N-124. 

Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

March  20th,  1917. 

DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER, 

We  are  all  feeling  decidedly  blue  because  our 
oldest  pilot  of  the  escadrille — one  of  the  four  who 
were  its  first  members  (the  other  3  were  Prince, 
Chapman  and  Rockwell) — has  been  missing  since 
yesterday  morning  and  undoubtedly  is  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lines — either  dead  or  wounded  and 
a  prisoner.  He  is  MacConnell,  the  one  who  wrote 
such  a  good  account  of  the  escadrille  which  was 
published  in  World's  Work.  He  and  I  were  out 
together  yesterday  morning  over  the  new  territory 
just  captured  by  the  French  and  English,  and 
about  ten  o'clock,  while  well  inside  the  enemy  lines, 
we  encountered  two  German  biplane  machines. 
I  mounted  to  attack  the  nearest  and  left  Mac  to 
take  care  of  the  second,  and  it  is  the  last  seen  of 
him.  There  were  plenty  of  clouds  and  mist,  and 
after  I  had  finished  my  scrap  with  the  one  I  at- 
tacked, in  which  I  got  one  of  my  main  upper  wing- 
supports  cut  in  half,  a  guiding-rod  cut  in  half, 
several  bullets  through  my  upper  wing,  and  half 
an  explosive  bullet  in  the  side  of  my  left  cheek, 
which  stunned  me  for  a  moment,  I  went  down  lower 
to  look  for  "Mac"  and  help  him  if  he  was  hard 
pressed,  and  looked  all  around  and  waited  for 
fifteen  minutes  for  him  to  show  up,  but  I  could  see 
neither  him  nor  the  German  machine  which  must 
have  attacked  him.  My  upper  wing  was  in  great 


308  WAR  LETTERS 

danger  of  breaking  off,  the  support  being  half  cut 
through,  my  wound  was  bleeding  and  pained  quite 
a  bit,  so  I  finally  headed  back  for  camp,  hoping  Mac 
had  perhaps  missed  me  and  gone  back  before  me. 
I  had  a  driving  wind  to  face  going  back  and  had  to 
fly  very  low  to  get  beneath  heavy  clouds  to  see  my 
way.  When  I  got  to  ground  on  our  field  I  looked 
in  vain  for  Mac's  machine.  When  I  asked  if  he 
had  returned  my  worst  fears  were  confirmed.  He 
had  not,  and  we  have,  up  to  the  present  time,  had 
absolutely  no  news  of  him  whatsoever.  It's  terri- 
ble, little  Mother.  I  feel  horribly  over  it,  for  I 
was  the  only  one  with  him.  If  I  could  have  only 
seen  what  became  of  him — been  nearer  to  him  while 
fighting,  but  I  had  to  go  up  to  keep  both  machines 
from  coming  down  on  him.  I  headed  off  one  and 
fought  it  against  all  odds,  because  I  couldn't  gain, 
in  the  short  time  I  had,  an  appreciable  advantage 
over  him,  and  his  gunner  was  able  to  shoot  much 
easier  than  I  as  we  were  on  the  same  level  circling 
around  each  other.  It  was  one  of  his  first  shots 
which  hit  me.  It  stunned  me  for  a  second,  but  I 
kept  at  him  and  fired  until  we  nearly  collided. 
Then  I  dived  to  look  out  for  Mac  and  then  couldn't 
locate  him.  A  battery  kept  shelling  me  as  I  came 
down.  Poor  Mac,  Mother !  I've  been  out  of  my 
mind  ever  since  getting  back  yesterday.  My 
wound  is-  slight.  It  was  dressed  as  soon  as  I  got 
back.  It  pains  dully,  but  will  be  all  right  soon  and 
won't  keep  me  from  continuing  my  duties.  I'd 
have  gone  out  to-day,  but  for  the  rotten  condition 


EDMOND  GENET  309 

of  the  weather — wanted  to  go  yesterday  afternoon 
to  look  for  Mac  or  his  machine  if  it  had  fallen  inside 
the  German  lines,  but  my  machine  had  to  be  re- 
paired. Our  lieutenant  and  Lufbery  did  go  out  to 
look  for  signs  or  news  of  him,  but  found  nothing. 
It's  miserable  luck.  The  Commandant  told  me 
I  did  bravely — I  wish  I  could  have  done  more- 
have  saved  poor  Mac  from  his  fate. 

Since  last  Friday  there  has  been  an  enormous 
amount  of  activity  on  this  front.  The  big  French 
and  British  advance  has  given  us  all  a  strenuous 
amount  of  work  each  day.  Friday  I  was  after 
enemy  observation  balloons.  Saturday  morning  at 
6.10  several  of  us  went  out  on  an  alert  after  Zeppe- 
lins. I  was  the  one  to  attack  as  I  carried  incendiary 
bullets,  the  others  were  my  guard.  Unfortunately 
we  were  sent  out  in  a  wrong  direction  and  missed 
the  Zeppelins  and  one  of  the  fellows  and  myself 
became  lost  above  the  clouds  and  had  to  land  for 
lack  of  fuel  in  the  west  of  France.  We  got  back  at 
one- thirty  that  afternoon.  One  Zeppelin  had  been 
brought  down  by  anti-aircraft  battery  fire  just 
South  of  Compiegne  at  6.15  that  morning.  Had 
we  gone  up  above  the  clouds  toward  the  east  that 
morning,  instead  of  heading  north  as  we  did,  we 
would  have  undoubtedly  sighted  the  Zeppelin  and 
consequently  your  "third"  might  now  be  a  Zeppe- 
lin conqueror.  Its  motors  were  out  of  order  and 
it  was  drifting  south  with  the  wind  when  brought 
down  in  flames  by  the  batteries.  I  could  have 
caught  it  easily  and  set  it  on  fire  immediately  with 


310  WAR  LETTERS 

my  incendiary  bullets.  My  luck  wasn't  with  me 
then. 

On  Sunday  I  was  out  reconnoitring  with  patrols 
both  morning  and  afternoon  over  the  new  territory 
gained  by  the  French  and  yesterday  I  had  the  ex- 
perience with  MacConnell  which  I've  already  told 
you. 

The  retiring  Germans  have  completely  torn  up 
the  country,  burned  the  villages,  carried  off  many 
of  the  civilian  population — especially  the  old  men 
and  young  women,  those  left  have  been  outra- 
geously mistreated,  half  starved  and  left  with  their 
homes  in  destruction.  Trees  have  been  cut  down, 
or  half  cut,  so  they  would  fall  over  with  the  wind 
and  obstruct  routes.  Roads  were  blown  up  every- 
where and  railroads  destroyed.  Regions  have  been 
flooded  and  all  kinds  of  other  things  done  to  im- 
pede the  advance,  and  all  supplies  of  food,  etc., 
have  been  taken  by  them.  The  ground  captured 
by  the  Allies  is  virtually  a  barren  waste.  It  was 
very  interesting  to  fly  over  this  territory  just  be- 
fore the  attacks — while  the  villages  were  being 
burned  by  the  enemy.  Practically  no  opposition 
up  to  date  has  been  offered  by  the  retiring  Germans. 
There  has  been  little  loss  of  life  and  the  advance 
has  really  been  carried  out  by  the  French  and  Eng- 
lish cavalry.  It's  quite  a  change  from  the  trench 
warfare.  The  French  civilians  whom  the  enemy 
left  in  the  villages  when  they  retreated  were  so 
overjoyed  when  the  French  troops  came  that  they 
fell  on  the  soldiers'  necks  and  embraced  and  kissed 


EDMOND  GENET  311 

and  wept  over  them.  The  children  shouted  and 
danced  and  waved  French  flags  at  us  as  we  flew  at 
a  low  altitude  over  them  these  last  few  days.  It 
was  very  novel  and  exciting.  Peronne  and  all  the 
region  between  Roye  and  Soissons  has  been  taken 
and  the  advance  is  continuing  every  day.  It  is 
cheering  everybody  up. 

The  new  Russian  government  just  set  up  seems 
to  be  in  better  favor  than  the  old  one  was  and  the 
French  are  patching  up  satisfactorily  their  internal 
political  troubles,  so  the  news  all  around  is  good, 
and  now  it  seems  very  certain  that  the  States  will  be 
with  the  Allies  in  full  measure  very  soon.  Even  far- 
away China  has  thrown  off  relations  with  the  Huns. 

Don't  worry,  dear  little  Mother,  over  my  wound 
or  anything  else.  God  has  been  very  good  to  me 
thus  far  and  He  knows  best  what  shall  become  of 
me.  I'd  be  very  willing  to  have  a  dozen  such 
wounds  if  poor  MacConnell  were  only  back  with 
us.  I'll  avenge  him  if  it  costs  me  my  own  life. 

Every  bit  of  love  to  you,  dear  Mother.  God 
bless  you  and  keep  you  well  and  happy  for  long, 
long  years  to  come  for 

Your  devoted  son, 

EDMOND. 

Escadrille  N-124. 
Secteur  Postal  182,  France. 

March  27th,  1917. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

To-day  a  mail  from  the  States  arrived — the  first 
in  nearly  three  weeks.  It  brought  me  your  letters 


312  WAR  LETTERS 

of  the  6th  and  llth,  and  I  suppose  you  can  easily 
guess  the  consequence  of  my  state  of  mind  after 
reading  the  one  of  the  llth  and  its  enclosure.  I 
don't  know  now  why  I've  been  hoping  and  trusting 
for  cheerful  news  of  the  one  girl  I've  always  set 
my  heart  on  and  to  whom  I've  tried  to  be  genuinely 
true  these  past  four  or  five  years  when  it  has 
seemed  inevitable  for  months  now  that  there  was 
no  hope.  The  simple  truth  itself  is  unbearable; 
can  you  half-way  imagine  what  it  means  to  me 
to  hate  to  realize  that  she  has  been  receiving  my 
letters  all  these  months  and  has  just  permitted  me 
to  keep  on  and  on  without  telling  me  directly  and 
instantly  of  her  engagement?  What  particular 
matter  does  it  make  after  all,  though,  when  one 
comes  straight  down  to  it?  Time  is  capable  of 
healing  over  all  wounds  even  if  the  scar  remains 
forever — just  as  it  is  doing  with  the  gash  in  my 
cheek  made  last  week  by  that  bullet,  only  that  is 
infinitesimal  in  comparison  to  the  size  of  this  other 
wound. 

Unless  the  conflict  stops  suddenly  very  soon 
there  isn't  much  chance  of  my  ever  getting  back 
to  you  all,  anyway.  Don't  grieve,  dear  little 
Mother,  because  I  write  that.  God  knows  best. 
I  feel  sure  that  He  had  some  big  purpose  in  guid- 
ing me  over  here  and  what  more  glorious  cause 
can  a  volunteer  give  his  life  for  these,  days  than 
this  great  one  men  are  dying  for  every  day  over 
here  on  these  battle-fields? 

Jim   MacConnell   has   just  gallantly   earned   a 


EDMOND  GENET  313 

lonely  grave  out  behind  the  present  fighting-lines. 
I  wrote  to  you  last  Tuesday — the  day  after  he  and 
I  were  out  together,  when  we  had  to  return, 
wounded,  without  him  and  with  no  definite  news 
of  him.  Since  then  the  Germans  were  forced  back 
further  and  finally  French  troops  came  across  a 
badly  smashed  Nieuport  with  the  body  of  a  sergeant 
pilot  beside  the  ruins.  All  identification  papers 

were  gone  and  the  d d  Boches  had  even  taken 

off  the  flying  clothes  and  even  the  boots  and  left 
the  body  where  it  had  fallen.  The  number  of  the 
machine  was  sent  in  and  so  we  knew  it  was  Mac's. 
The  following  morning,  after  a  flight  over  the  lines, 
I  spiralled  down  over  the  location  given  and  found 
the  wreck  —  almost  unrecognizable  as  an  aero- 
plane, crushed  into  the  ground  at  the  edge  of  a 
shell-torn  and  wrecked  little  village.  I  circled 
over  it  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  back  to  camp  to 
report.  Our  captain  flew  over  that  way  the  same 
morning  to  see  about  the  body.  When  he  returned 
he  told  us  about  the  clothes  and  shoes  having  been 
stolen  and  said  that  Mac  had  been  buried  beside 
the  road  next  to  which  he  had  fallen.  There  is  no 
doubt  but  that  he  was  killed  during  the  combat  in 
the  air  and  the  machine  crashed  down  full  speed  to 
the  earth.  Since  that  day  I've  chased  two  Boche 
machines,  but  could  get  up  to  neither,  but  I'll  get 
one  yet  and  more  than  one,  or  be  dropped  myself, 
to  avenge  poor  Mac.  I've  already  been  told  I  was 
reckless  in  the  air  over  the  lines,  but  after  this  I 
vow  I'll  be  more  than  reckless,  come  what  may. 


314  WAR  LETTERS 

Mother,  my  blood  boils  and  thirsts  after  those 
accursed  Huns.  They're  brutes  and  fiends  and 
daily  they  grow  worse. 

Mac  and  myself  have  been  proposed  by  Capt. 
Thenault  for  army  citations  which  will  bring  me  the 
Croix  de  Guerre.  It  seems  a  mighty  slight  thing 
to  get  decorated  for,  considering  that  poor  Mac  has 
died  to  win  his.  I'd  have  had  a  citation  for  what 
I  did  at  Champagne  if  I  had  done  what  most  of  my 
comrades  did  there  after  the  battle — deliberately 
asked  for  it — but  that  isn't  my  way  of  winning 
laurels.  It  has  been  pretty  hard  since  though  to 
meet  again  and  again  these  fellows  who  have  been 
decorated  for  service  in  the  American  Ambulance 
Field  Service  for  carrying  wounded  back  of  the 
lines — fellows  who  return  to  America  after  half  a 
year's  service  over  here  and  they  are  petted  and 
idolized  by  every  one — and  know  that  I  went 
through  what  I  did  with  the  Legion  for  a  year  and 
a  half  in  the  very  face  of  Hell  and  have  had  nothing 
to  display  for  it  all.  I'm  not  the  only  American 
who  has  served  in  the  Legion  since  the  beginning, 
or  near  it,  who  is  that  way  either.  There  are  two 
or  three  others  who  were  even  wounded  who  were 
never  decorated.  Poor  Dowd  was  one  of  them,  and 
he  had  his  right  hand  badly  lacerated  at  Cham- 
pagne, which  put  him  in  a  hospital  for  six  months, 
after  which  he  volunteered  to  continue  his  services 
in  aviation — where  he  was  killed  while  training, 
as  you  know.  I've  seen  so  many,  many  fellows 
decorated  for  very  insignificant  wounds  and  ser- 
vices that  it  is  quite  a  sore  subject  with  me. 


EDMOND  GENET  315 

We  have  a  little  sweetheart  for  our  "Whiskey- 
Man,"  the  cub  lion,  mascot  of  the  escadrille.  She's 
a  23^  months  old  lioness  whom  we  call  "Soda." 
"Whiskey"  is  now  about  a  year  old  and  just  as 
gentle  and  nice  a  lion  as  ever  existed.  Since  his 
little  fiancee  came  he  has  been  ever  so  much  nicer 
and  more  contented  than  ever  before.  "Soda" 
is  rather  snappy  and  not  half  as  nice  as  her  "Man." 
We  still  feed  her  on  warmed  milk.  "Whiskey  "  eats 
like  a  young  pig — anything  that  is  offered  him.  He 
plays  around  with  us  all  day  long.  He  just  loves 
to  be  rolled  on  his  back  and  tickled. 

I'm  mighty  well  obliged  to  you,  dear  Mother, 
for  telling  me  everything  there  was  to  be  told  about 
-  which  you  knew.  If  I  had  but  heard  directly 
from  her,  though,  I'd  feel  far  more  satisfied.  So 
the  world  rolls  on  and  we  learn  new  things  each  day 
— even  though  often  they  bring  discouragement  and 
sorrow  to  us.  There's  one  beloved  sweetheart  I 
know  will  always  be  mine.  That  is  you,  Mother 
dear.  Thank  God  for  that — for  you. 

Your  loving  "third," 

EDMOND. 


Escadrille  N-124. 
Secteur  Postal  164,  France. 

April  15th,  1917. 
MY  DEAR   LITTLE   MOTHER, 

We've  had  lots  of  flying  to  do  and  I  have  been  able 
to  do  very  little  writing.  There  is  an  awful  stack  of 
unanswered  letters  in  my  box  now.  I  just  can't 
get  down  to  them  so  they  steadily  keep  collecting. 


316  ,WAR  LETTERS 

I  was  in  Paris  over  April  1st  and  2nd  as  the 
memorial  service  for  MacConnell  was  held  on  the 
morning  of  the  2nd  at  the  Amer.  Church  in  Paris. 
There  was  a  very  large  attendance,  including 
Ambassador  Sharp  and  several  high  French  mili- 
tary officials.  I  sat  with  Major  and  Mrs.  Parker, 
and  stayed  at  the  hotel  with  them  during  the  two 
days.  Paul  Rockwell  came  up  from  the  south, 
where  he  is  on  his  delayed  honeymoon  with  his 
wife,  for  service,  so  I  saw  him  quite  a  bit  during  the 
two  days.  He  went  south  again  the  next  day. 
Only  3  of  us  could  be  allowed  to  go  in  for  the  ser- 
vice as  there  was  too  much  activity  on  the  front 
for  the  escadrille.  On  Monday  of  last  week  several 
of  us  went  in  to  get  new  machines.  A  lot  of  new 
fellows  have  come  out  lately  to  join  us  so-  we  had 
to  have  additional  machines.  I  didn't  get  one  after 
all,  but  we  were  there  five  days  before  we  could 
come  back. 

Cheer  up,  little  Mother,  things  are  coming  out 
O.  K  for  us  all. 

My  citation  for  Croix  de  Guerre  has  been  granted 
but  I  have  not  yet  received  it,  so  am  still  waiting 
to  be  decorated.  It  will  come  very  soon  now. 
My  nomination  for  grade  of  sous-officier  is  still  on 
its  way,  so  I'm  not  yet  wearing  my  stripes.  It 
should  be  here  any  day  now,  though. 

The  day  before  yesterday  I  had  two  combats 
during  the  afternoon,  but  neither  resulted  in  any- 
thing important.  The  Huns  are  becoming  much 
more  active  along  here  now  and  fights  occur  prac- 


I 
1 


EDMOND  GENET  317 

tically  daily.  Lufbery,  our  "ace,"  brought  down 
his  8th  avion  the  other  day,  and  our  Lieutenant, 
De  Laage,  brought  down  his  2nd  and  3rd  on  Sunday 
last. 

What  is  going  to  be  done  with  us  now  that  the 
States  are  in  is  still  a  mystery.  There  have  been 
lots  of  rumors  in  the  papers,  etc.,  but  all  based  on 
no  definite  facts.  We're  waiting  for  news.  I  don't 
believe  that  we'll  get  one  quarter  the  recognition 
which  is  due  us,  but  what  can  we  expect  when  up  to 
the  time  the  U.  S.  came  in  it  regarded  us  as  ones 
who  had  forfeited  our  right  of  citizenship  for  being 
over  here,  and  when  our  country  is  run  so  much  by 
politics  ? 

If  possible,  I  am  going  to  come  back  on  a  furlough 
if  I  can  get  authority  to  go  from  the  French.  That 
will  be  a  month  or  two  yet,  so  you'll  know  later 
what  I'll  do  about  that.  I  sure  would  like  to  have 
a  little  leave  over  there,  dear  Mother.  Practically 
all  the  others  who  have  been  here  2  or  3  years  (and 
several  who  haven't)  have  been  to  the  States  on 
leave  for  3  or  4  weeks,  so  I  guess  I'm  entitled  to  the 
same.  It  will  be  all  the  better  to  be  over  there 
now  that  the  States  are  one  of  the  Allies.  I  can 
wear  a  uniform  and  not  be  afraid  of  getting  interned 
by  my  own  government  for  being  unneutral.  If 
I  get  cleared  up  I'll  come. 

Take  heed  of  our  change  of  postal  secteur.  We 
moved  about  2  weeks  ago. 

Yesterday,  under  the  eye  of  a  motion-picture 
machine,  for  pictures  which  will  be  shown  later 


318  WAR  LETTERS 

in  America  and  France  and  elsewhere  also,  we  dis- 
played the  glorious  Stars  and  Stripes  for  the  first 
time  in  history  on  a  European  battle-front.  Pic- 
tures were  also  taken  of  the  Captain,  Thaw,  and 
Lufbery  leaving  the  field  in  their  machines  for  a 
patrol  over  the  lines.  Keep  watch  for  the  pictures 
— perhaps  you  will  be  able  to  see  them  yourself. 

So  Rivers  is  at  sea?  I  wish  he'd  write  and  tell 
me  all  about  it.  I  don't  suppose  he  is  more  than 
simply  cruising  along  the  Atlantic  coast  on  guard 
for  submarines.  Where  is  Rod?  Has  he  really 
returned  from  Texas  yet? 

I  think  that  the  United  States  coming  in  with  the 
Allies  has  really  been  the  crowning  assurance  for 
all  of  a  sure  and  complete  victory.  I  got  to  Paris 
just  a  few  days  after  war  was  declared,  and  what  a 
change  I  found  there !  American  flags  were  flying 
everywhere  among  those  .of  the  Allies,  and  every- 
body was  feeling  far  brighter  and  more  cheerful 
than  I  have  ever  seen  them  before.  It  was  fine  to 
see  Old  Glory  waving  everywhere,  Mother.  We've 
waited  so  long  for  it  to  fly  over  here  and  all  Ameri- 
cans have  had  to  be  restrained  before.  Now  it's 
entirely  changed  and  all  are  happy  and  contented 
and  hopeful.  One  can  see  that  it  has  made  a  big 
moral  impression  on  the  French  soldiers. 
Your  devoted,  loving  "third," 

EDMOND. 

Genet  was  killed  the  day  after  writing  this  letter, 
April  16. 


CONCLUSION 


CONCLUSION 

The  following  is  an  account  of  Genet's  death  by 
Lufbery,  the  famous  "Ace"  of  the  Lafayette  Esca- 
drille: 

DEAR  Miss  HARPER: 

As  Edmond  Genet  was  one  of  my  best  friends  I 
will  be  able  to  tell  you  everything  I  know  about 
his  death. 

One  afternoon,  at  half-past  two,  Genet  and  I 
were  ordered  to  make  a  patrol  on  the  lines  between 
St.  Quentin  and  La  Fere.  I  was  leading  and 
everything  seemed  to  be  all  right.  At  about  3 
o'clock  somewhere  around  Moy  the  German  anti- 
aircrafts started  to  shell  us.  I  saw  very  plainly 
three  shells  bursting  right  behind  Genet's  machine, 
about  one  hundred  yards  from  it.  As  we  get  that 
very  often  I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  it. 
Many  times  I  myself  had  been  shelled  much  closer 
than  that  and  nothing  had  happened.  Anyway,  I 
don't  know  if  he  got  hit  or  not,  but  he  suddenly 
turned  around  and  went  toward  the  French  lines. 
I  followed  him  for  about  three  or  four  minutes  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  taking  the  right  direction, 
after  that  I  went  back  to  the  lines  to  finish  my 
patrol  duty.  There  is  another  thing:  Genet  that 

321 


WAR  LETTERS 

day  was  not  feeling  well.  He  went  out  in  the 
morning  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  landed  he  told 
us  that  there  was  something  wrong  with  him  and 
went  to  bed.  We  did  not  want  to  let  him  go  the 
afternoon  sortie,  but  he  insisted,  saying  he  was  now 
much  better. 

Soldiers  who  saw  him  fall  say  that  the  machine 
got  in  a  corkscrew  dive  at  about  1,400  yards  high, 
finally  a  wing  came  off  and  the  whole  thing  crashed 
on  the  ground. 

I  do  not  know  exactly  what  happened,  but  might 
suppose  that,  being  ill,  he  fainted.  He  also  might 
have  got  wounded  by  a  piece  of  shell. 

Genet  was  a  nice  little  fellow  and  everybody  in 
the  Escadrille  was  very  fond  of  him.  He  was  very 
brave  and  I  am  sure  he  would  have  become  one  of 

the  best. 

/ 

Letter  from  Sergeant  Lovell  to  Paul  Rockwell: 

April  16th. 

MY  DEAR  PAUL: 

It  seems  that  I  am  destined  always  to  announce 
to  you  bad  news.  This  time  it  is  dear  little  Genet 
who  is  dead.  He  has  been  killed  this  afternoon, 
flying  in  the  company  of  Lufbery.  On  account  of 
the  clouds  they  flew  low.  The  special  German 
batteries  were  firing  at  them  continuously.  Sud- 
denly Lufbery  noticed  that  Genet  had  made  a  half- 
turn  as  if  going  back.  He  tried  to  follow  but  lost 
sight  of  him  in  the  clouds.  .  ,  ,  He  was  very 


EDMOND  GENET  323 

much  surprised  upon  his  return  to  the  camp  to  see 
that  Edmond  had  not  returned.  A  few  minutes 
later  we  received  by  telephone  the  news  that  Genet 
had  fallen  five  kilometres  within  our  lines.  Lieu- 
tenant De  Laage,  Lufbery,  Haviland,  and  I  took 
the  light  motor  of  the  squadron  and  rushed  to  the 
relief  station.  There  we  found  the  dead  body  of 
Genet.  He  had  been  instantly  killed.  I  saw  the 
apparatus  later  and  I  have  never  seen  so  complete 
a  wreck,  and  I  have  seen  numbers.  He  had  fallen 
with  the  motor  in  full  speed  1*1  the  middle  of  the 
road,  which  proves  that  the  German  shell  had 
killed  him  or  rendered  him  unconscious.  I  had 
flown  with  him  in  the  morning  very  early,  and  in 
the  afternoon  we  were  to  have  flown  together,  but 
as  he  seemed  tired  I  advised  him  not  to  fly,  and  I 
went  up  with  Thaw.  When  I  returned  I  learned 
that  Genet  had  gone  up  with  Lufbery.  Haviland, 
whose  avion  was  disabled,  had  tried  to  borrow 
Genet's  avion  to  fly  in  his  place,  but  Edmond  re- 
fused, insisting  he  felt  all  right  and  he  flew — to  his 
death.  For  myself,  I  have  lost  a  very  dear  friend, 
and  a  courageous  comrade  of  combat:  the  squadron 
has  lost  one  of  the  most  conscientious  pilots  that  it 
has  ever  had  or  ever  will  have.  Edmond  fell  a 
few  hundred  metres  from  the  spot  where  Mac  fell 
four  weeks  ago.  He  will  be  buried  at  Ham  to- 
morrow. I  am  happy  in  one  thing,  and  that  is 
that  he  learned  yesterday  evening  that  his  citation 
is  now  official,  and  also  that  the  German  avion 
with  which  he  had  fought  when  MacConnell  was 


324  WAR  LETTERS 

killed  has  been  compelled  to  land  on  French  soil 
and  that  its  crew  have  been  made  prisoners. 

Sincerely, 

WALTER. 


Paul  Rockwell  himself,  writing  of  Genet  in  the 
Guerre  A6rienne,  tells  of  hearing  first  from  "a  cele- 
brated American  surgeon,  Doctor  David  Wheeler, 
of  one  of  the  young  Legionnaires,  a  descendant  of 
Citizen  Genet,  and  that  he  was  one  of  the  bravest 
and  most  attractive  boys  he  had  ever  met.  I 
found  him  truly  what  Wheeler  had  described  him, 
simple,  modest,  of  fine  character  and  of  an  indomi- 
table bravery."  They  became  great  friends,  and 
of  Genet's  death  Rockwell  wrote  thus  beautifully: 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GENET: 

I  feel  a  sympathy  with  you  that  I  cannot  find 
words  to  express.  I  would  have  written  you  ere 
now,  but  the  loss  of  dear  little  Edmond  coming 
right  after  that  of  Jim  gave  me  such  a  feeling  of 
the  "blues"  that  I  could  not  write. 

Anyway  we  know  that  Edmond  fell  for  something 
worth  while,  and  that  he  was  so  fine  an  idealist  he 
didn't  mind  dying  for  the  cause.  He  is  over  there 
with  Kiffin  and  Jim  and  the  other  boys  and  it  will 
not  be  long  until  we  will  be  with  them  too. 

I  think  that  one  enters  eternity  with  the  same 
force  and  strength  that  one  quits  this  world  with, 
and  that  one  falling  in  battle  in  the  full  bloom  of 
youth  and  energy  has  a  better  place  in  the  next 
world  than  those  who  linger  here  and  die  of  illness 


EDMOND  GENET  325 

or  age.     Anyhow  I  would  change  places  with  any 
one  of  the  boys  who  have  died  so  gallantly. 


Distinguished  tributes  came  also  from  high  places : 

THE  WHITE  HOUSE 
WASHINGTON 

15  January,  1918. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GENET: 

May  I  not  take  the  liberty  of  expressing  my 
sympathy  for  you  in  the  loss  of  your  gallant  son 
and  at  the  same  time,  if  I  may  without  seeming 
inconsistent,  congratulate  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart  on  the  record  he  made  for  himself,  which 
must  have  mixed  your  deep  grief  with  genuine 
pride  ? 

Your  two  sons  are,  I  know,  in  the  service  of 
their  country.  I  admire  instances  of  this  sort 
very  much  indeed  and  hope  that  you  will  accept 
these  few  lines  as  an  expression  of  my  friendship 
and  admiration. 

Cordially  and  sincerely  yours, 

WOODROW  WILSON. 
Mrs.  Albert  Rivers  Genet, 

Ossining,  New  York. 

AMBASSADE 
DE   LA   REPUBUQUE   FRANCHISE  AUX   ^TATS-UNIS 

Washington,  June  21,  1917. 
MADAME: 

The  lack  of  your 'address,  for  which  I  had  to 
write  to  a  friend  of  mine,  is  the  cause  of  my  offering 


326  WAR  LETTERS 

to  you  at  such  a  late  date  the  expression  of  my 
heartfelt  condolence  for  your  great  loss. 

Well  worthy  of  his  family  and  of  the  two  noble 
countries  from  which  he  hailed,  your  son,  who  had 
been  so  long  spared  by  the  enemy's  bullets,  has 
fallen  for  the  cause  of  liberty.  His  memory  will 
ever  be  cherished  among  us  as  well  as  among  his 
American  companions. 

Be  assured  that  I  sincerely  feel  with  you  in  these 
sad  hours  and  believe  me,  Madame, 

Respectfully  yours, 

(Signed)    JUSSERAND. 
Mrs.  Alfred  Rivers  Genet, 
Ossining,  N.  Y. 

FOREIGN  SERVICE  COMMITTEE,  AERO  CLUB  OF 

AMERICA 
42  FAUBOURG  POISSONNIERE 

Paris,  26th  January,  1918. 
To  the  family  of  the  late 

Edmond  C.  Genet,  Volunteer  Aviator. 
The  Aero  Club  of  America,  recognizing  the  heroic 
efforts  of  the  American  Volunteer  Aviators,  coura- 
geous sons  of  America  inspired  by  the  generous  and 
lasting  friendship  of  Lafayette  for  Washington,  and 
as  heroes  have  sacrificed  their  lives  for  France 
and  the  cause  of  liberty,  thereby  setting  a  noble  ex- 
ample to  America,  who  is  now  as  a  nation  fighting 
for  the  same  cause,  wishes  to  commemorate  the 
memory  of  Mr.  Edmond  C.  Genet,  by  sending  to  his 
family,  as  a  tribute,  the  highest  honor  which  it  is 


EDMOND  GENET  327 

theirs  to  bestow,  the  SPECIAL  WAR  MEDAL  OF  THE 
AERO  CLUB  OF  AMERICA. 

This  medal  is  being  executed  and  struck  in 
France,  and  as  soon  as  ready  will  be  forwarded  to 
you. 

Very  cordially  and  sincerely  yours, 

(Signed)        LAURENCE  V.  BENET, 
Chairman  of  the  Foreign  Service  Committee, 

Aero  Club  of  America.  j 

(Signed)        SIDNEY  B.  VEIT, 

Honorary  Secretary. 

His  commander,  Captain  Thenault,  wrote  to  the 
boy's  mother: 

"Was  he  really  twenty-four  years  old?  He 
looked  so  young,  like  a  kind  child,  and,  however, 
he  was  a  so  courageous  man.  ...  It  must  be 
very  painful  for  you  to  lose  your  dear  son,  but  if 
that  can  be  a  little  comfort  to  you,  let  me  say  that 
you  were  the  mother  of  a  great  soul." 

Genet  was  buried  in  the  little  military  cemetery 
at  Ham  in  the  midst  of  a  tempest  of  snow,  the  cere- 
mony impressive  in  its  simplicity.  "At  the  mo- 
ment even  when  the  military  celebrant  (Captain 
Thenault)  was  reading  the  office  and  had  just  said, 
Amen,  the  sun  pierced  the  clouds  for  an  instant 
and  illuminated  the  bier  'as  a  benediction  from 
heaven,'  as  one  of  the  pilots  said  later.  Genet  had 
requested  in  his  last  wishes  to  be  enveloped  in  the 
French  flag,  if  he  should  be  killed  within  our  lines, 
and  that  the  two  flags,  the  French  and  the  Ameri- 


328  WAR  LETTERS 

can,  should  be  placed  upon  his  grave.  This  was 
done." — Rockwell  in  "La  Guerre  Aerienne." 

The  mother  of  another  young  hero,  Mrs.  Hos- 
kier,  visiting  the  grave  later,  found  it  distinguished 
by  a  wooden  cross,  the  two  flags,  and  wreaths  of 
beaded  flowers  placed  there  by  the  boys  of  the 
Escadrille. 

The  final  and  perfect  word  was  France's: 

CITATION 

"G,  A.  N.,  13e  Groupe  de  Combat.  Le  20  avril 
1917.  Genet  Edmond,  Caporal  a  1'Escadrille,  N. 
124.  Citoyen  americain  engage  au  service  de  la 
France,  a  fait  preuves  des  plus  belles  qualites 
d'ardeur  et  de  devouement,  livrant  des  combats 
aeriens  des  son  arrivee  a  TEscadrille,  effectuant  des 
Reconnaissances  a  basse  altitude,  et  se  depensant 
sans  compter.  Le  10  mars  1917  a  ete  blesse  au  cours 
d'un  combat  contre  deux  avions  ennemis,  et  a  refuse 
d'interrompre  son  service." 

CAPTAIN  THENAULT'S  ADDRESS 

The  pride  of  commanding  brave  and  courageous 
soldiers  often  carries  with  it  cruel  offsets. 

To-day  we  are  conducting  to  his  tomb  one  of 
our  comrades,  Genet — a  valiant  soldier. 

Born  in  the  State  of  New  York,  1890,  he  volun- 
tarily left  his  country  in  order  to  join — two  years 
ago — for  the  cause  which  he  believed  right — the 
Foreign  Legion. 


EDMOND  GENET  329 

There  he  gained  that  decoration  (the  fourragere) 
which  he  was  so  proud  to  wear,  and  last  year  avia- 
tion tempted  him.  He  at  once  gave  promise,  as 
before,  of  a  brilliant  career.  The  only  solicitude 
of  his  chiefs  was  to  teach  him  moderation.  With 
his  juvenile  ardor  he  was  always  ready  to  fly, 
whether  to  attack  an  avion  or  burn  a  drachen. 

He  was  young,  and  he  seemed  even  younger. 
He  was  our  Benjamin,  and  we  cherished  him  as  in 
a  family  one  prefers  the  youngest,  the  weakest. 
But  his  heart  was  not  weak,  as  on  many  occasions 
he  caused  us  to  see. 

A  month  ago,  during  our  advance,  flying  low 
with  his  comrade  MacConnell,  in  order  to  see 
whether  the  Germans  were  not  traitorously  lying 
in  wait  for  our  soldiers,  they  were  surprised  by  an 
enemy  escadrille.  MacConnell  had  not  the  time 
to  stand  his  ground;  but  Genet  straightened,  swift 
as  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  engaged  in  the  struggle. 
He  put  the  enemy  to  flight,  disabled  one  and  re- 
turned with  his  cheek  cut  by  a  ball.  Rest  ?  never ! 
He  was  not  dead.  To  fight  for  France  was  his 
dream,  and  yesterday,  disdainful  of  the  storm  rag- 
ing, during  a  patrol,  an  enemy  shell  reached  him. 
He  fell.  At  a  good  altitude  he  still  had  sufficient 
strength  to  return  within  our  lines  to  die. 

He  loved  his  country,  most  certainly,  but  in  his 
last  wishes,  which  one  cannot  read  without  being 
strongly  moved,  after  having  sent  a  touching  fare- 
well to  his  mother — who  will  weep,  over  there — 
he  said:  "If  I  die,  wrap  me  in  the  French  flag,  but 


330  WAR  LETTERS 

place  the  two  colors  together  upon  my  grave,  to 
show  that  I  died  for  the  two  countries." 

Then  he  added,  addressing  his  comrades,  "  Thank 
you,  my  friends;  may  God  guide  you  to  great  suc- 
cess, and  give  much  honor  to  this  great  nation  and 
to  this  glorious  cause  for  which  we  fight.  May 
France  live  forever." 

My  dear  friend,  farewell.  Respectfully  I  salute 
your  memory  which  we  shall  cherish,  and  before 
the  grave  of  the  first  soldier  fallen  for  the  two  flags 
—the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and  the  Tricolor,  in  the 
Great  War,  we  say:  "Thanks  to  America  for  hav- 
ing given  to  the  light  sons  such  as  Thou."  Fare- 
well. 


14  DAY  USE 

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